Lost in the water
by yetanothernerd
Summary: When Peter Parker, an ordinary kid from Queens, wakes up one morning in the Avengers Compound, disoriented and with Tony Stark by his side, his life is changed forever. Having somehow lost two years of his memory seemingly overnight, Peter will have to work hard to rediscover what he’d gained, lost, and who he was before he lost his memory; And if he’s still the same person now.
1. Prologue

**Hi everybody! So this is a story I've been working on for a while, and am very excited to finally be able to publish! Any comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated! I hope that you all enjoy :) **

That evening had looked like it would be a normal one. But of course, Peter's definition of '_normal_' had changed a lot in the past two years. First, he was bitten by a radioactive spider and, well… You know the rest.

He was still getting used to the later patrols- Now that he was situated in New York City instead of Queens, there'd been a lot more crime to stop. (Especially with the police force so busy with all of the missing citizens.)

That night alone, Peter had stopped two robberies, three muggings, and returned a lost dog to his owners. Normally, he would be feeling exhausted right now. It was more than his usual. But for some reason, Peter had the incessant feeling that he wasn't doing enough.

He'd been swinging crime-free for about a half-an-hour, enjoying the calm wind in his face and newly familiar sound of cars whizzing below, when he got an alert from Karen.

"It is now eleven P.M; The time at which Mr. Stark had requested you return home."

Peter let out a heavy sigh. "Thanks, Karen." He grumbled. The night had passed by fast, (although Peter had been feeling that way every night recently) and he wasn't ready to head back just yet. He knew that over the past few weeks, Tony had been pretty understanding if he was "in the middle of a fight" and ended up back at the facility a half hour late or so. Peter remembered how surprised he'd been the first time he'd returned late to the compound, and Tony had let him off the hook with a simple warning… Other times when he'd been late while under Tony's care, even by a minute or so, he'd be in for a lecture.. But it seemed as though now that Peter and Tony's arrangement was more 'permanent', Tony had loosened up a bit.

Key word- _Bit_. Peter knew he'd be in big trouble if he didn't head back soon- Especially if Tony decided to check his tracker, which would lead him to Peter's old apartment in Queens; miles away from where he was _actually_ swinging around.

Peter missed the days when he could sneak out, back when nobody knew he was Spider-Man. On those nights, he would stay out as late as he wanted. He'd patrol until midnight or three in the morning and nobody would tell him otherwise. He'd wake up the next morning feeling like hell, but with a sense of accomplishment. If he'd helped even one person that night, it was worth it.

And even on the hellish mornings, when keeping his eyes open felt like lifting one hundred pound weights and the bags beneath them were dark as soot, things weren't so bad. Aunt May would make toaster-waffles and the pair would eat breakfast together. She'd wish him a good day at school and he'd wish her a good day at work. They'd reflect that evening about how good (or crappy) their days had turned out. They'd laugh. Tell stories. Later that evening Peter would sneak out and start the cycle all over again. He'd get the chance to help more people.

But then Mr Stark had flown him to Germany, and Ned had found out, and next May had found out-

Peter shook his head and flung out a web. He tried to wash away the memory of Aunt May's fear when she found out what he'd really been sneaking out to do, despite all the times she'd told him to do the exact opposite.

He knew in the end she'd accepted it. She knew what he did was important to Peter- But that didn't do much to lessen Peter's guilt.

Emotions at a high, Peter decided he'd do one last scan over the perimeter and then return to the Avengers facility. He needed the calm that wind blowing over his suit brought him, the easy feeling of swinging through the streets of New York. He knew Tony would be upset, but he simply couldn't head back to the compound yet.

His thoughts drifted back to Aunt May… Her funeral was four days away.

Peter had known it was coming for weeks, set the date a week ago, and repeated it to himself over and over and over- yet it still didn't feel real. Even when the same thing had happened before Uncle Ben's funeral, and he knew _that_ had been real, this still felt like some crazy realistic fever dream to Peter. Like when he was a kid; he'd have a terrifying dream, but he knew that soon Aunt May would wake him up to bring him some tea and a blanket. She'd run her hands through his hair soothingly and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

But it _wasn't_ alright. Aunt May wasn't coming- And she never would again. Because she was gone. Even after moving in with Tony, looking everywhere for her himself; retracing the steps, trying to connect the dots, being unable to find patterns after months, realizing that it was no use- he'd never find her-

A flashing light caught Peter's eye from a nearby alleyway.

He knowingly let himself be absorbed by the distraction, pushing his thoughts about May as far back in his head as he could. Peter swung over to a building close by to get an idea of what was going on, but made sure that he was far enough that he wouldn't blow his cover.

"Please," Unfortunately, another building was blocking his view, but thanks to his advanced hearing, he could still hear what was going on. "I-I'll give you my money. Here! This is my wallet- Look, all my cards- Credit, Debit- Two hundred dollars cash- Take it! Take it all, just-" The man's voice cracks "I have kids. And a wife- I just want to go home to them."

It sounded like a mugging. Peter hopped to another spot where his vision was a little better, but he still couldn't make out the details.

"Karen, could you zoom in on those guys over there?" He asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Yes, Peter. It appears to be two males, although I cannot scan them for matches past the times Mr Stark set-"

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Peter had to call up Ned to disable what Tony called the 'Bedtime' protocol. It was meant to keep him from staying out too late, but all it actually did was keep Peter in the dark about the identities of the criminals he fought. If Peter saw a crime happening and knew he could stop it- Then he would. No matter how late at night it was.

Trying his best to be stealthy, Peter swung down from his current scoping point and onto one of the buildings beside where the mugging was taking place. He climbed a little further downwards to get a closer look.

"I'm sorry sir, but I cannot let you blow my cover-" The muggers British accent set him apart from others Peter had stopped before. Maybe this guy was new to crime; He was clad all in black, everything covered except his eyes, and he had a small knife at his side- So, basically what all robbers looked like in movies.

He was about to grab the cash from the man when Peter swung down and flung a web towards the knife. With one fluid motion, he brought it towards himself and threw it into a nearby dumpster.

"-And I'm sorry, but I can't let you take things that aren't yours. You do know that's _illegal_, right? Also rude, if I'm honest."

The black-clad man growled, but before he could retaliate, Peter had flung a web onto his hand and twisted the man backwards. With another well placed web, he managed to web the man's hands together behind his back.

"Now, let's wrap this up- I can't stay for long, I have a physics test first period."

With a few more well-timed jumps and thwips, Peter had the man wrapped completely in webbing in under a minute. Peter had to admit, it had been unusually easy; This guy was definitely new to the crime scene. Peter almost felt bad. Maybe he was poor and didn't see a way out and had turned to crime in desperation.

But he was going to hurt somebody; and no matter the motivation, that wasn't okay.

"Thank you!" The civilian said, his voice filled with gratitude. Peter turned to face him, a quirky response on the tip of his tongue, but paused when he met the man's eyes. His blood seemed to run cold.

He didn't know why- The man was tall, with a fairly lanky physique and messy red hair. Nothing about him would've stood out if it weren't for his eyes.

They were a piercing gray, with a calculating sort of gaze that seemed to see right past the suit and into Peter's own eyes and soul. Something about them seemed malicious despite the grateful smile on the man's face.

"Uh, you're, uhm- You're welcome." He said. A dark, shaking feeling had developed in his gut- a feeling that he needed to get out of there, _fast_. But before he could web away, the man had wrapped his arms around Peter in a tight hug, and Peter felt his hair stand on end and mental warnings explode in his brain.

His Spider-Sense.

It was sharp and rapid, and felt as though someone had slipped a piece of ice down his back. But as soon as it had come, Peter felt a sudden prick on the side of his neck- The one place on his suit where the mask could easily be pulled away to reveal bare skin. "Thank you-" The man repeated again, but this time his voice was cold and silky, like that of villains you see in old-timey movies telling their victims they were killing them for their own good.

"-For making that so easy."

The man pulled away, and Peter reached his hand up towards his neck, where he'd felt the prick. Sure enough, there was a small patch of exposed skin. He moved his hand away, but found no blood. He looked towards the man's hand, which was closed in a fist. Peter couldn't see it, but he was damn sure there was an empty syringe in the man's palm.

Peter felt his knees buckle. His limbs turned to led. He fell to the ground, breathing heavily. He opened his mouth to speak and felt as though he were suffocating. The man was standing right above him, and the two met eyes once again. It felt impossible to look away; the man never even blinked.

Peter felt smaller in that moment then he had since he'd been bitten by the radioactive spider.

He'd been drugged. He couldn't fight back- Another minute and he might be unconscious. He had to call Tony.

With massive effort, feeling as though his lungs were filling with fire every breath he took, Peter managed to choke out the words; "Karen- Call-"

But it was no use , and everything faded to black before Peter could finish giving his request. The last thing he saw before going unconscious was the grey-eyed man's mouth curling into a smile.

_Beep_.

_Beep._

Peter's senses gradually began to return to him. First, a buzzing in his ear. Next, he heard the whizzing of cars from a nearby street. He slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by near-darkness. His limbs ached as though his bones had turned to brick and his muscles to gelatin. The last thing he remembered was deciding to do one last patrol-

"It is now 3 A.M- Four hours after Mr Stark requested you return to the Avengers Facility."

Peter shot upwards and was instantly filled with regret. His limbs screamed in protest and pain began to shoot through his head with so much intensity that he that he could barely think. He let out a groan.

Karen beeped at him again. Peter flinched at the sound. It was right by his ear, and-

"You have fourteen missed calls and five messages from Tony Stark."

He forgot the pain for a moment, overcome with panic. "Oh- Oh _shit_-" Despite his aching body, Peter managed to get onto his feet. He reached out a hand and shot a web towards the nearest building, ready to swing, but his balance was off and he undershot the distance. He fell to the ground with a thud that shook him to the core. The ringing in his ears intensified.

"This should not be that hard…" He muttered bitterly to himself. What the hell had happened? The only explanation he could think of was he overshot a distance and rammed into a wall. But not only was that unlike him, the chances that he got knocked out from that was slim to none- When he'd first gotten his powers, he'd hit a _lot_ of buildings, and only once had he gotten knocked out. And even then it was only for about ten seconds- Not _four hours_.

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

Based on how much it his head ached simply hearing the alert from Karen, he wasn't feeling exactly up to listening to Mr Stark yell at him. He dismissed the call, but knew he had to contact Tony in some other way.

"Karen, text Tony telling him I'm okay...ish, and I'm on my way back."

"Yes, Peter." The A.I responded.

Peter took a few deep breaths and decided to climb up a building to get some height before attempting to swing again. "Karen, could you be ready to activate my parachute with a safeword?"

"Of course, Peter." Peter winced at the sound. "What would you like this 'safeword' to be?"

Peter paused, thinking it over. "How about 'Code Red?'" He'd always wanted to use code red for something- It would make him sound like a spy from all those movies he'd loved so much as a kid. "And uh, could you maybe turn down the volume a little bit, please?" Peter asked, finally extending his hand and webbing onto a nearby building. This time, his distance was fine, and he was able to swing with relative ease. His muscles still ached, but swinging at least felt easy again.

"Yes, Peter." Karen said, her automated voice coming through much softer this time. Peter sighed with relief, and began making his way towards the Avengers facility.

While swinging back, he thought about how he'd arrived in this predicament- Truth be told, he had absolutely no idea what he'd done to end up in that alley. Last thing he remembered, he was swinging through the streets of New York, Karen had reminded him it was eleven- Had he even been in this part of the city at the time? Peter couldn't remember.

He kept on trying to figure out what had happened to him, but nothing made much sense. His mask had still been on and intact, so he didn't think somebody had tried to knock him out to find out his identity- And even if they had, wouldn't his spider-sense have alerted him earlier on? As he mulled over the possibilities, Peter found himself even more perplexed as more questions plagued him. Why didn't Karen's alarms and alerts wake him up earlier? Did nobody stumble upon him in the four hours he'd been unconscious and call the hospital? Why didn't he feel any external injuries, like bumps or bruises, yet still feel as though he'd been through a beating? (He'd even asked Karen to check to make sure he hadn't just missed them- No injuries were present except for a migraine, which Peter had figured out for himself.) And why didn't Tony try to come and find him?

Oh. Wait. He knew the answer to that one. Ned had helped him ditch the tracker last week-

Peter cursed under his breath. Mr Stark was going to_ kill him_.

After approximately ten minutes of swinging, Peter had to start the rest of his trek on foot. Unlike the rest of New York, the new Avengers facility was fairly secluded from other buildings, and Peter couldn't web himself all the way there. He hated the walk, even though it usually only took him about five minutes, and hated it even more now. His brain felt full of fog, and while his suit was great for swinging around the city, it wasn't the most comfortable outfit for a casual stroll.

"Karen," He asked his AI, "Could you please turn on the heaters in my suit?"

"Yes, Peter."

In response, the suit began to warm up against the frigid air. Peter sighed in relief, happy to relish in some comfort. Halfway through the walk, he spotted a seemingly deserted outhouse and stepped into it. He flicked on a light and grabbed his backpack. Although from the outside it looked like a run-down port-a-potty, inside this little building doubled as Peter's personal changing room, so that any paparazzi or Ross' double-agents couldn't figure out Spider-man was with the Avengers and force him to sign the accords. If that were to be discovered, he'd be pressured (even forced) to reveal his identity, and Peter didn't want Ned or anyone else he knew to become potential targets.

With a sigh, Peter slipped out of his heated suit and into his regular clothes before continuing the walk. Even though it took him double the usual time to arrive at the compound, he almost wished it had taken longer, despite how mad he was certain Mr Stark already was at him.

Not feeling like entering through the front door, and knowing there were no cameras near his room for this exact reason, Peter grabbed hold of the wall and crawled up towards his bedroom.

As Peter neared the window, he spotted Mr Stark sitting on his bed, rubbing circles on his forehead with one hand and holding his phone up to his ear with the other. His eyes were red and puffy, and the bags underneath them seemed larger than usual (if that was even possible). His hair was a mess, probably from running his hands through it (something Peter knew was a nervous habit of his) and there was a cup of coffee on Peter's bedside table beside him. It almost looked like there were tear stains under Mr. Stark's eyes, but Peter dismissed it as a trick of the light.

As quietly as he could, Peter opened the window, and guilt swarmed in his stomach at the sound of Mr. Stark's voice.

"Yeah, he texted me- I have _no idea _if he's okay or not, Pep, he just told me he's on his way over. He said 'he's _okay-ish_,' but you know the kid, if he said '_ish_' then chances are something is seriously wrong."

Peter was suddenly filled with regret. He should've answered the call. He knew Tony better than this- He should've known how worried sick he would get-

Wait, what? He knew. Mr Stark better than- What? The two had only met- Wait...How long ago was it again-?

It was during his confusion that Mr. Stark finally spotted him, and Peter felt surprised to see relief rather than anger flood his features. Without a word, he slipped his phone in his pocket and dashed towards the window.

"FRIDAY, scan Peter for any injuries."

"Peter has no external injuries, but does appear to have a minor headache."

Peter was surprised. He'd thought for sure he'd had a migraine, but he supposed it must've just been lack of sleep.

"Oh, thank _god_-" Tony heaved a large sigh and momentarily buried his head in his hands. As soon as Peter crawled into the room, however, he was wrapped in a warm hug by Mr Stark. He was surprised by how tightly Tony was holding onto him. Peter slowly returned the gesture, feeling confused but not uncomfortable. The two stayed that way for about a minute before Mr Stark released Peter, his features filled with a new frustration.

"Where the _hell_ have you _been_?" Peter flinched. He had known this would happen, but that didn't mean he'd felt prepared for it. "Oh, and don't tell me your old apartment in Queens, because I already _checked_ there to find out that I'd been tracking agoddamn_ bookshelf_."

Peter's cheeks flushed crimson. He moved his gaze downwards, unable to meet Mr. Stark's eyes. "I-"

"What were you _thinking_? Ignoring my calls, removing your tracker- For the _fifth time_, by the way- I left you alone, for a while, thinking maybe you were grieving and needed some time- But after an _hour_ I finally decided to check up on you myself- Only to find that _you weren't even there_, _still_ refused to answer my calls, and could've been seriously hurt or even _dead_ for all I knew-"

"Mr. Stark-"

"Oh, _Oh,_ I see how it is, I get mad at you because you were irresponsible as _hell_, and it's back to 'Mr. Stark.' Do you know what time it is? It's three in the morning, _four hours_ past when you were _supposed_ to be home-"

Suddenly, Peter's 'minor headache' transformed into a sharper, white-hot shooting pain. It was worse even then when he'd first woken up. He let out a gasp, and then a whimper, falling to his knees as more pain shot through his head.

Tony's anger melted immediately into concern. "What the hell? Kid, are you okay?" Tony kneeled down next to him, hands pressed gently on Peter's shoulders. Peter barely processed that, clawing at his head.

"I don't- I don't know what's happening-" He managed to say, screwing his eyes shut.

"Hey- Hey, it's okay kid- J-Just breathe, breathe-"

And Peter tried. He focused on his breathes, hearing Mr. Stark bark out commands to FRIDAY but not processing what they were.

"It's okay Peter- It's gonna be okay- Stay with me-"

Mr. Stark placed a hand firmly on Peter's left shoulder to ground him. His fingers graze against the left side of Peter's neck, which flared up in discomfort. It came and went in less than a second, and, focused on the pain in his head, Peter didn't dwell on it for long.

Peter didn't know how long they stayed like that- Hours, minutes, seconds- until the pain finally began to recede, leaving behind a dull aching. His chest heaved, up and down, then up and down again, Peter finally feeling like he was getting a breath in. And god, he felt _exhausted_.

"Hey, Pete, can you hear me?" Mr Stark's voice was soft, and filled with concern. Peter nodded a little, and he heard Mr Stark let out a sigh of relief.

"_Jesus_, kid, you're going to give me a heart att-"

Before Mr Stark could finish his sentence, Peter had slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter one

**Hey everybody! Just wanted to thank you for all of the positive feedback I got after the first chapter, your comments really inspire me to keep writing and really made my day every time I read one. Anyways, I didn't mention it in my last chapter, but I'm gonna try for weekly updates in this story! Also, I won't spoil it but I saw Captain Marvel today and it was FANTASTIC! If you haven't seen it yet you should really go watch it! **

**Anyways, onto the story! Hope you all enjoy this chapter :)**

The first thing he saw was a flash from the alley. The second was a man clad in black. A glint of red hair. And then, those damned eyes.

They were the eyes of someone who felt in control. Who knew exactly what was happening and why. They were smug, even without the accompanying smirk. They met with Peter's own, and he couldn't help the twinge of fear in his stomach, his sixth-sense warning him of a danger it was too late to stop. A syringe was plunged into his skin, and this time the man was laughing, a full and cruel sound, as Peter fell to the ground.

The scene around him slowly shifted as he opened his eyes, this time to somewhere comfortable, somewhere safe. Peter smiled, fear easing away. He was in the Avengers compound.

"Hey Pete," Tony's friendly voice cut in. He was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and had little extra pep in his step. The familiarity of the scene was comforting. "Glad that you _finally _decided to join me for breakfast." He motioned to two plates of pancakes, one already covered in syrup and half-eaten. He sat down in front of them, cutting off another piece and popping it into his mouth. "Or should I say lunch?"

"It's not _that_ late…" Peter grumbled, sitting across from Tony in front of the other plate of pancakes. He yawned, still feeling beat from his patrol the previous evening. Mr Stark raised an eyebrow towards him.

"Uh huh. FRIDAY, remind me, what time is it?"

"It is twelve twenty-three P.M"

"And at what time do people eat lunch?"

"Lunch is typically eaten between twelve and one PM, sir"

Tony shrugged and sipped his coffee. When he brought the mug back down, he had a smirk on his face.

"Shut up-" Peter scoffed, but there was a smile on his face.

"Wha- Kid, I didn't say a _word_-"

"You know what I mean-"

The casual bickering faded, and Peter turned away from Tony. When he turned back, he was no longer sitting at the dinner table at the compound, but in the lunchroom at Midtown tech...

He and Ned were sitting at their usual spot, at the usual time, but something still felt _un_usual. While Ned was eating a sandwich, as he usually did, Peter didn't have any food in front of him, but rather a heavy duty notebook covered in thick black pen. As soon as he noticed it, anguish flared inside of him. He knew this booklet all too well. Peter barely even blinked as he grabbed a nearby pen and began adding onto the pages.

A few moments passed, silent except for the scratching of Peter's pen against paper. Ned eyed Peter warily before clearing his throat. "So, uh- Did you hear about the new BB-8 Lego set?" He asked "I was thinking, I uh, have enough money saved up, so we could-"

"Yeah yeah, sounds good-" Peter's eyes were still on his notebook. It was obvious that he had only half-paid attention to what Ned had said. He was too absorbed with all the locations, names, dates- Trying to connect the dots, to figure out why these particular people had gotten kidnapped. There had to be some sort of _link_, something he wasn't seeing-

Ned frowned. He knew _exactly_ what Peter was doing, and why he was doing it. He'd already seen it happen once before.

"Look, Peter- I know that you're trying to find her, but… You've been working at that all day- _Every_ day- since… I mean, don't you think it might be good to… Y'know… Take a break?"

"I can't, Ned." There was a pause. Peter stopped analyzing the pages for the first time that day. His hands started to shake, and he closed his eyes momentarily. He felt ashamed, like this was his fault. It _was _his fault. But he couldn't freak out at school, nor let Ned know the extent of what he was feeling- He'd surely try to convince Peter otherwise. Taking a deep breathe to calm himself down, Peter quickly circled something on the page before continuing, still unable to meet his friend's eyes. "I know you're trying to help me, but-"

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

Peter didn't even need to look at Ned to know how worried he was. He knew all too well that even when things had been better Peter hadn't been getting enough sleep, too busy patrolling late at night and trying to stop crimes. But he'd always been able to cover those eyebags a little bit better than the ones he was sporting now.

"Enough." He said, shrugging half-heartedly. Truth be told, he hadn't gotten more than two hours of continuous sleep for weeks, and was typically falling asleep in class, when he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on the material anyways.

Ned sighed, and Peter knew that he didn't believe him. He felt guilty- He knew he was causing his friend unnecessary worry. But not nearly as guilty as when he'd returned home after a visit with Tony to find May gone, the door to his apartment wide open, and a half written note on the table.

_Going out to get some groceries. If I'm not back by the time you get home, help yourself to whatever's in the fridge!_

_Love, Aunt_

The 't' had stretched over the page, as if someone had grabbed her while she was writing and she'd jumped in surprise.

Peter had immediately contacted Tony. The police. Gone out patrolling himself. But that had been the last he'd heard from Aunt May.

If he didn't figure this out, it could be the last he'd ever hear from her.

"Peter… It- It's been over a month… Don't you think…"

"I _have_ to find her, Ned." Peter's voice was tight, yet quiet. It was barely audible, but held more intensity and emotion then a sixteen year old should have been capable of wielding. "I _have _to. I can't just- Just build some lego robot when she's out there- Probably hurt- Pr-Probably-" He stopped mid-sentence, clamping his jaw shut. He wasn't going to cry, or yell, or let any of his emotions get the better of him. Not when he was in the school cafeteria. Not towards Ned.

Ned sighed, looking down. "I know." He said. The words were soft, empathetic, but not pitiful. "I'm just… Worried about you."

Peter nodded. He felt ashamed, knowing his actions were affecting Ned, too, but also knowing he couldn't stop. It was just like when Aunt May had first found out he was Spider-Man.

"I know." He said.

"And I miss you." Ned continued, relaxing slightly. "We haven't hung out since-

"Yeah…" Peter said, voice taking on a cold edge this time. "Yeah. I know."

Ned's face fell, but he seemed to realize that Peter's coolness wasn't meant for him.

The scene soon melted away to reveal a new one- The Parker's apartment in Queens; Peter was now inside of Aunt May and Uncle Ben's old room.

The bedroom had simple cream coloured walls and dark-green bedding. It was pretty plain; Not too much decoration or furniture, just a modest dresser and mirror. On the queen-sized bed, Peter was curled in the fetal position, shaking and letting out heavy sobs. Nobody was there with him, so he didn't hide anything- The snot, the tears, the occasional screams- He was letting it all out, knowing that once he was no longer alone, he wouldn't be able to do so.

In his pale, shaking hands a wooden picture frame was held, an old photo inside.

There were three people in the picture, all dressed in oversized ponchos. It had been raining that day- Peter remembered it well. To the left, there's a man- probably in his early forties- wearing a plaid shirt underneath his clear poncho, with a huge smile on his face. His green eyes were bright despite his drooping wet hair and rain-covered glasses. To the right, a similarly aged woman has her arm around the smiling man, her warm brown eyes filled with light. She had her other hand raised towards the camera in a small wave and you could tell that she was on the edge of laughter.

And between them is a young boy, no older than ten, with arms held high in the air and the most care-free, loving smile on his face. One would think he'd been brought to Disney world, not a rainy day walk with his family.

Six years later, that same boy, now a little less young, is holding onto that photo, looking back on the times when he had no idea the tragedies his makeshift family would face, wondering how on earth this was fair. Why the world would give him such a loving and wonderful family only to take them away; just like that. The boy in the photo is joyful, whereas the teenager looking at it is filled with sorrow.

"I miss you guys…" He chokes out, bringing the photo closer to his chest. He hugs it so tightly that he feels the glass shatter in his embrace, but he still doesn't let go.

After a moment, Peter feels a light breeze brush against him, and looks up to finds himself on a rooftop by a harbor. The tears and photograph are gone, but the millions of emotions stayed swirling in his chest. A different mix, this time- He looked down towards the familiar boat, feeling ashamed and fearful for the people who had been on it- The people he'd failed to save only minutes before.

A boat where they _could've died, _if Mr. Stark hadn't come to the rescue.

Peter wasn't even sure if everyone _had_ made it out okay.

He heard the slow whirring of thrusters behind him and turned to see an Iron Man suit, a sight he'd become familiar with in the past few months. A year ago, he would have been star-struck at the sight. Asking for a photo, texting Ned a million heart eye emojis- Instead, in present day, he's terrified that the man inside the suit (if he's actually inside it, which Peter doubts) is going to tell him that somebody got hurt- Or _worse_\- because of him. He turns his gaze back towards the ocean, shame rising to an all-time high as Mr. Stark began what Peter knew would be a lecture.

"Previously on Peter screws the pooch," Mr. Stark's voice filled the air, loud and authoritarian, reminding Peter of how new he was at being a superhero when compared to him. "I tell you to stay away from this, instead- You hacked a multi-million dollar suit so you can sneak around behind my back doing the _one thing_ that I told you not to do."

Peter knew he screwed up; He was _very_ aware of that. He was barely processing what Mr. Stark was telling him at that point, a question he was terrified to ask burning in his mind.

"Is everyone okay?" Peter speaks quietly. He's unsure what he'll do if the answer is '_no_'.

Mr. Stark paused, and Peter's heart skipped a beat. "No thanks to you."

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, and he finally felt like he was able to breathe. However, once he knew that everyone was alright, his other emotions began to give way for frustration.

"No thanks to me?" He turned back to face Mr. Stark's suit, pent up anger at all the ignored and brushed off messages he'd given to him and Happy boiling to the surface. "Those weapons are out there and I _try _to tell you about it but you didn't listen." He looks up at Mr. Stark, frustration turning to anger. "None of this would've happened if you had just _listened_ to me!" Peter shook his head, mad at himself for feeling so upset, knowing Mr. Stark didn't share his degree of concern about the problem. He was probably off gallivanting somewhere, or working on a new suit _this very minute-_

"If you even cared then you'd actually be here."

Without even a second's hesitation, the suit opened up to reveal Tony Stark, in the flesh. To say Peter felt shocked was an understatement. Mr. Stark took a few steps towards him, his body language still somehow relaxed. He sniffed.

"I did listen, kid." His voice was sincere, and Peter found himself taken aback. "Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Mr. Stark's eyes stared directly into Peter's, filled with frustration, demanding answers that Peter didn't have.

"Did you know that I was the only one who believed in you? Everyone else said I was _crazy_ to recruit a _fourteen_ year old kid-"

"I'm fifteen." Peter corrected

"No. This is where you _zip-it_, the adult is talking." Peter could tell that Mr. Stark was reaching his wits end. He swallowed and did as he was told.

"What if somebody had died tonight?" Peter looked up at Mr. Stark, who's eyes again were stern and angry, yet sincere. "Different story, right? 'Cause that's on _you_." Peter flinched. Mr. Stark was right; This was all his fault-

"And if you die?" He held his arms outwards before gesturing towards himself. "I feel like that's on me. I don't need that on my conscience."

Peter had not _once_ considered that. His shoulders sank, the message resonating deep inside of him, loud and clear.

"Yes sir-"

"_Yes-"_

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't cut it." Mr. Stark's voice was firm, and utterly unapologetic.

"I- I just wanted to be like you."

It was true. All that Peter had wanted to do was be a hero- Save lives. Stop the dangerous people from hurting the innocent. He'd been given these powers for a reason, to _help_\- That's what Iron Man did, had been doing for years, and Peter wanted so badly to do the same, knew it was his _duty_ to do the same. To be like Mr. Stark. To be like Iron Man.

"And I wanted you to be better."

Suddenly, Peter noticed the sound of a car whizzing by. He turned to face it, and impulsively jumped away. The car had been driving _much_ too close to the sidewalk for comfort. He looked down to find he was no longer in his suit, but rather a pair of jeans and a science T-shirt. It had an illustration of the periodic table on it and read 'I wear this shirt periodically'. Peter felt puzzled. Hadn't he thrown this one out a while ago…?

Before he could finish his thought, Peter heard three things almost at once. The rip of a gunshot, a cry of pain, and the _thump_ of somebody hitting the ground. He turned towards the commotion, and saw that it was _Uncle Ben_ who had fallen to the ground, blood seeping through his chest.

Peter later wouldn't remember having screamed. All he remembered hearing was the pounding of his heart as he raced towards his Uncle.

He kneeled beside him, and could practically see the life draining from Ben's eyes. The blood was beginning to pool beneath him, and every breath he took sounded and looked like a struggle, his chest just barely rising and falling. In that moment, Peter and Ben were the only people in the world. Nothing else mattered.

"Call 911. _CALL 911!"_ Peter heard himself shout. It didn't sound like his voice; It was too desperate, too detached, to possibly belong to him.

"Sorry, kid." A criminal said, pushing a gun and a wad of cash into his pocket. "Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do." The man ran off without another word. Nobody followed, too fearful of the loaded gun in his pocket.

When Peter saw the thief, when he heard him- Something deep inside of him broke. Something that would never fully mend. All of his current emotions increased ten-fold.

Because that man- The man who had _shot_ Uncle Ben- Was the same robber he'd seen earlier. A robber Peter had been asked to stop. Who he'd brushed aside, thinking that that was something for the police to handle.

He could've stopped him. _Easily_. Peter looked back towards his Uncle, who's blood continued to stain the sidewalk.

Peter felt himself shaking, so many tears pooling in his eyes that his vision blurred.

He could've _stopped this._

"Pete- Listen to me-" Ben wheezed out, grabbing Peter by the arm with surprising strength. His eyes were wide, but accepting- They held no fear.

"I love you, son. Tell your Aunt May that I love her too. More than _anything_." The words held astute importance; More importance than the dozens upon dozens of other times Peter had heard his Uncle assure him that he loved him; Because this time, they both knew it would be the last. This time, it was a goodbye.

"U-Uncle Ben-" Peter choked up, blinking away the rapidly falling tears. No, no, no no no- He couldn't do this again- First his parents, and now-

"Remember what I taught you, son- With great power, comes great responsibility."

"N-No- Uncle Ben-"

"I love you, Peter."

Ben's gaze fell and his eyes glazed over. The man who had taught Peter how to ride a bike, who had drove him to his first day of high school, who had laughed with him and talked with him, through hardships and sorrow, through joy and fun- Who was supposed to be there when he learned to drive a car, graduated, got his first job- Was now lifeless on a sidewalk in Queens; The bullet in his chest from a gun Peter could've easily taken away earlier that afternoon.

"_NO!"_

Peter felt a sudden rush of pain on his left arm. He spotted a a small black and green spider, with its fangs dug deep into his skin. As soon as it released, the creature fell to the ground, dead.

It was at this moment that Peter realized he was dreaming.

As soon as he thought it, his eyes shot open, and he was rapidly brought back to the waking world. Harsh lights shone down upon Peter, who groaned in reply. A heavy dizziness settled itself in his head.

He took a moment to gather himself, squeezing his eyes shut, trying his best to wane off the vertigo. He took a few deep breaths before blinking his eyes open again, and was pleasantly surprised to find the lights a little less jarring this time around.

He was still reeling from the dream- Nightmare? He wasn't sure. Whichever it was, Peter felt as though it held some sort of astute importance. He couldn't place why, but the feeling staying strong and heavy in his gut. He tried to recall what had happened to try and explain it, but found that he couldn't. All the details were gone. All he could remember was a spider, some blurry faces, a scream, and-

The harder he tried to focus on it, the blurrier it became. All he was certain he'd seen now was the spider; Without context, that could mean anything. He wouldn't be getting any help from online dream interpreters solving this one.

With his curious dream abandoned, Peter turned his focus to his current surroundings, which were almost _more_ confusing. He wordlessly propped himself into a sitting position as he looked around, taking in a room that most certainly wasn't his. The ceiling was higher, the walls whiter, and the place was filled with all sorts of fancy machines that _definitely_ weren't from one of Peter's technology dumpster dives. There was a high-tech computer in the corner, some large screens propped onto rolling platforms, and closest to him, a steadily beeping heart monitor. The only _non_-technological objects in the room were a tall plant in the far left corner, and the bed he was sitting on. Although at this point he wouldn't be surprised if either of them started to beep and explain that they were 'scanning' him or something.

Peter knew that he must be in a hospital, and the fact that he was dressed in a hospital gown confirmed it. He just didn't know _why_. He also spotted an IV and other bits of machinery attached to his arm and hand. That sparked some panic. It must have been something serious if all this had been necessary.

Peter also had no recollection of the events leading up to this particular ER visit. He'd only been in a hospital once before, when he was seven and was dared to climb a tree, but wound up falling and breaking his arm. So it _definitely_ wasn't a related trip. The two visits felt nothing alike- The anxious twitch in his heart remained the same, sure, but the last time he'd remembered walking through the front door. This time around, all he could remember was going to sleep after a normal dinner with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. Had he had a heart attack in his sleep? Or stopped breathing, somehow? Had he swam that day and begun to second-hand drown?

His thoughts were soon interrupted as the door to the ward opened. A short woman wearing blue doctor scrubs walked into the room, clipboard in hand and a smile on her face. Peter was surprised to find himself tense at the sight. This was _good_\- The woman was a doctor. This meant he would be getting some answers.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Parker." She said with a smile, before holding out her hand for him to shake. "I'm Dr. Cho. I've been taking care of you and making sure that everything's in order."

Peter slowly took her hand, the twitch of anxiety morphing into a heart-hammering sensation. He was still feeling extremely overwhelmed, but the idea of finding out what had happened to him- Something that was so bad he'd needed an IV, not to mention a heart monitor- was terrifying. He wished his Aunt and Uncle were here, and found himself wondering where they were… When he'd broken his arm all that time ago, they'd been with him the whole time-

_"Do I have to go in there by myself?" He asked, looking at the hospital through the car window. Everything was too big here, too scary, and definitely not somewhere the seven year old wanted to be. He had his left arm cradled against his chest, and tears stung at his eyes from the pain. Peter had never been to a hospital, only seen one on TV; He remembered waking up from a nightmare once, only six years old, looking for his Aunt and Uncle for comfort. They'd been watching a medical show at the time, and Peter had seen bits and pieces of it. He remembered shouting, and images of people being forcibly taken away from their families on stretchers, where the doctors had weirdly shaped metal tools that they used to pick and prod at the patient. Aunt May explained to Peter after that it was only because they couldn't help any other way, and it didn't hurt the person since they were unconscious, but Peter wasn't thinking about that part. All he could picture were strangers wearing surgical masks hovering above his arm, holding out different metal tools they planned to stick inside of him._

_Peter shuddered, and pulled his arm a little closer to his chest._

_"Of course not, Peter." May's voice interrupted his thoughts. She had decided to sit in the backseat with him on the drive, to comfort him and distract him from the pain. "We'll be there with you the whole time."_

_She ran a hand through his hair and smiled warmly at him, which made Peter feel a little better, but he could still only manage a weak smile in response. _

_ Uncle Ben pulled them into the nearest parking spot, and as soon as the car was stopped, he undid his seatbelt and turned around to face Peter. He looked him in the eye, and spoke words that Peter would never forget._

_ "Pete, whenever you're hurting, we're always going to be there with you. Even if we can't be in the room with you, we'll always be right here." He pointed towards Peter's heart. "Our thoughts, our love, will be with you even in times where we can't be." His eyes traced downwards. He swallowed before looking back up. "Just like your parents are always with you. They're right here, right now." This time, Ben pointed towards his own heart. Peter mimicked the gesture with his good hand. _

_ "Right here." Peter said. The moment was bittersweet; Peter missed his parents dearly, but he couldn't have asked for a better surrogate family. Ben smiled, then turned his gaze towards May, who's hand was on her husband's shoulder over the front seat. Their eyes met, and it seemed to Peter as though they had shared some sort of telepathic message. After a moment, Ben cleared his throat before addressing Peter._

"_Alright- Now, let's go and get your arm all fixed up, __shall we?"_

In present time, Peter absent-mindedly placed his hand over his heart, the index finger thrumming nervously.

"Uh, are my Aunt and Uncle here?" He blurted out. "May and Ben Parker?" Dr. Cho blinked in surprise.

It was then that Peter realized she'd already been speaking, and he had completely interrupted. His eyes widened and he felt heat rise up to his cheeks.

When he was met with silence, however, Peter's embarrassment was forgotten. Instead of answering him, the doctor was rapidly scribbling in her notebook. When she finally looked back up again, her eyes were holding barely-concealed sympathy.

Peter knew that look.

His heart dropped to his stomach. He may have only been four when his parents had died, but he remembered _that look. _

An inappropriate laugh arose in his chest, almost as if his body didn't know how to cope with what was going on around him. No- _No_, he must be misreading it. He was misreading it. They were fine. Probably just getting food. They'd walk through the door any minute now, smiles on their faces, maybe a sandwich for him in Ben's hand.

"Do they know I'm here?" He asked, thinking of another reason they might be absent. Before Dr. Cho even had a chance to respond, Peter felt his panic begin to rise. In his stupor, he didn't notice himself grab the metal bar by his bedside.

"Peter, I need you to breathe." Dr. Cho's voice was calm and slow, and would've been grounding had Peter been paying it any mind. The beeping of his heart monitor accelerated.

"_Peter_, focus on me. Breathe in, and out. In, and out." Dr Cho instructed, her voice sharper this time. She placed a hand on his shoulder, which helped snap him out of it. Peter tried his best to obey her instructions.

He reminded himself of how when he'd first gone to live with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, he'd thought every time one of them had left the room that they must've died. The panic that had absorbed him in those moments was similar to what he was feeling now. But they had _always_ come back, no matter his doubts.

They would come back.

They had to.

"Good, keep breathing."

The heart monitor returned to a steady pace, and Peter turned back to Dr. Cho, who was smiling warmly at him, seemingly pleased that he'd managed to calm down so quickly.

As Peter relaxed, he released his grip on the bar at his side, and was startled by the resulting _clang_. He looked down to see the metal bar he'd been holding onto had been ripped from his bedside, and was now lying on the floor.

"What the _hell-"_ He felt a completely different, _new_ kind of panic rise in his chest. Had he-? He wasn't supposed to be able to do that. _Nobody_ was supposed to be able to do that.

Peter would've thought that maybe it had been rusty and broken easily, or something, except he could _see_ the jagged lines around where the metal had pulled apart. That meant it had taken _force_.

Dr. Cho grabbed the metal from the floor before retreating from the room, leaving Peter alone. She had spoken to him before she left, but he hadn't processed the words, only nodded reluctantly. His gaze was still on his shaking hand, that had just seemingly pried metal apart as if it were paper.

He stayed that way, in a strange sort of trance, for what felt like hours. He was only broken out of it when he heard a soft, _familiar_ voice.

"Peter?"

Peter looked upwards, and felt a flood of emotions he couldn't quite name. It felt somewhat like relief, but with a heaviness to it that relief didn't usually carry. Whatever it was, it calmed him down, so he counted it as positive.

Ned was standing at the doors, eyes puffy and slightly reddened. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and cracked a smile. "You're okay!"

Before Peter could say a thing, Ned had rushed over and enveloped him up in a hug, which Peter returned with ease. _This is normal_, he thought to himself, warmth spreading through him, jagged metal pushed to the back of his mind. He guiltlessly let himself relish in the comfort of familiarity. _This is normal._

"Yeah… I'm okay." Peter decided not to think too hard about the definition of 'Okay'. He was breathing, so, y'know, that was something. "I'm- uh, I'm still not sure what exactly happened to me?" He admitted. He felt a little embarrassed when he realized he hadn't actually _asked_ what had happened yet. The two broke apart from the hug, and with a little hesitance, he decided to change that. "Hey, uh, what _did_ happen?"

Dr. Cho, who had re-entered shortly after Ned, took over the conversation at that point. "We aren't entirely certain, Mr. Parker." She said tentatively. "You collapsed a few days ago, and have been unconscious for roughly 36 hours. We believe that you may have been drugged, and that it's affected your long-term memory."

Peter blinked, unsure what to make of this. He was aghast. He'd been unconscious for an entire day and a half. Was- Was that considered a coma? And drugged? _Him?_ He was just a kid from Queens! It wasn't like he had any money or power; which, in his experience (which was really just watching a lot of movies), was usually why people got drugged.

The memory loss, however, made a surprising amount of sense. He didn't remember a _thing_ about how he'd gotten here, or the time leading up to it. The night before (that he realized now probably wasn't _actually_ the night before) had seemed extremely ordinary, and not like a time when he would get hurt, or _drugged_, or anything of the sort. He let himself feel relieved. At least how confused he was made sense now.

But it rose another alarming question. He swallowed before asking it. "How much did I forget?"

Dr Cho sighed. "We aren't certain. Before I can deduce that, I'll have to ask you a few questions." She pulled out her clipboard again, placing it on her lap. "Now- What's the last thing you remember?"

"Having dinner with my Aunt and Uncle, and then going to sleep." He said. "Oh, and it was a school night- I dunno exactly what night, or if that even makes a difference- Wait, what day is it today?"

"Today is Sunday," Dr. Cho replied nonchalantly. Peter didn't miss that she didn't tell him the _actual_ date. She must have done that on purpose. His heart, against Peter's will, starting to race again. Something wasn't right-

He turned to Ned, wondering if he had picked up on Dr. Cho's strange choice of words, and was surprised to see his friend had gone extremely pale. "Ned?" He asked, growing concerned. He placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Are you okay?"

Ned nodded, but he didn't meet Peters eyes. After a moment, he plastered a smile on his face and looked towards Peter, but continued to avoid eye contact as much as he could.

"Y-Yeah! I'm uh- Just fine, totally- totally gnarly."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Gnarly?" Ned had never used the word as an adjective, and he was blabbing; Which was usually a dead give away that he was hiding something.

"Yeah?" He said it like a question, not a reassurance "I mean, uh- Yeah. Just- Gnarly."

He smiled widely at Peter. Peter squirmed under his gaze. Ned wasn't telling him something. And he told Peter _everything_. Something big was definitely wrong. Peter wasn't being told the full story. His thoughts returned back to Uncle Ben and Aunt May, but were soon interrupted by Dr. Cho-

"Do you remember any other details? The date? Or something going on at that time? Or that you were looking forward too?"

Peter screwed up his face, thinking hard, subconsciously pleased to have a distraction. It all felt like such a blur- He couldn't remember the details. It had been a simple, ordinary day… Breakfast, school- Oh!

"My math test got postponed because of a field trip to a science exhibition that was happening the next day- Does that help at all?" Helene nodded before writing this down. Peter felt his chest deflate at the realization. He'd been _really_ excited for that trip, and had probably been unconscious for the whole thing.

"Oh, man, I missed the field trip, didn't I?"

"You were there…" Ned replied. Peter would've felt stupid hearing the correction because, duh, memory loss, if he hadn't been so shaken by how his friend had answered. Enthusiastic, science and tech obsessed Ned had spoken so quietly Peter almost hadn't heard it. He turned towards him, feeling a shiver go down his spine. Peter had been expecting him to launch into a spiel about all the cool stuff they had learnt, then apologize for making Peter feel worse that he'd missed it, but he stayed silent.

Before he could question Ned about it, he was asked another question by Dr. Cho. "Now, how's your head feeling? Is there any pain at all?"

"Uh, a little bit of a headache, but that's it… " Dr. Cho nodded at his response, once again writing it down. Peter was still confused about, well, _everything_, but particularly how he had been so affected while feeling so _un_affected (physically, at least).

"Well, everything seems to be in order, then. Now that you're awake, and decently stable, you won't be needing that IV anymore." She walked over to him and began to remove the IV, as well as the other wires that had been attached to Peter, all the while Ned was still avoiding his gaze.

Once she was finished, Dr. Cho grabbed her clipboard and gave him and Ned a small smile. "I'll leave you two be for a few minutes." She said, walking out of the room.

"Thanks…" Peter replied softly. He didn't think she'd heard him, but that wasn't his main concern right then. He turned towards Ned. The atmosphere felt a little awkward. Neither of them really knew what to say in this situation, and while Peter had a million questions, he wasn't sure where to start, or if Ned would even know the answers to them. Some of them Peter was afraid to know the answers to.

After a moment, Peter decided on a question that wasn't too heavy, that he knew Ned could answer. "So… Did I miss much school?"

Ned cracked a smile, and a little tension dispersed. "You're in the hospital with memory loss, and your first thought is _school_?"

"Well, I don't want to get behind. If I miss the deadline for one of Ms. West's projects, I'll end up in detention for the rest of the year."

"Y'know, most of the time after you say something I'm not expecting, it's because it's something badass. But that was, quite possibly, the _least_ badass thing I've _ever_ heard you say."

Peter laughed, brushing aside the fact he was certain he'd _never_ said anything badass in his _life_, in favour of the fact that the awkwardness between him and Ned was now completely gone, the two settling back into normalcy. "Really?" He asked "Even less badass than the time I slept over at your house and we were studying chemistry, so I decided to recreate the rap version of the periodic table, while using your mom's hair-brush as a fake microphone? Nevermind the corresponding dance routine?" Peter supposed that moment wasn't about something he had said, but paid the technicalities no mind.

"Please, that rendition was _legendary_. Beyoncé _wishes_ she had what you have."

Peter and Ned paused before bursting out with laughter, so hard that their chests hurt and they were tearing up. It was a nice moment, and once again Peter felt himself comforted by the familiarity of it. But it wasn't long before how unusual their current situation was once again dawned for both boys. Peter found himself rubbing the place on his arm where the IV had been only minutes ago. Ned's lips twitched into a frown and the tears continued to fall from his eyes, even once the laughter ceased.

He sniffled, unable to meet Peter's eyes. "I was… I was _so_ _scared_ when we got the call that you were hurt." Ned admitted, eyes filled with a type of worry that Peter wasn't used to seeing from him, someone who was usually so care-free and excited about all things dangerous. "We- We weren't sure you were gonna-" A small sob escaped from Ned's throat. Peter's chest felt tight with shock- He hadn't realized that he'd- He'd almost _died_. A heavy guilt also resided in his gut- He hadn't meant to make Ned so worried.

"But- I'm okay. See?" Peter said, gesturing at himself. "Confused and forgetful sure, but I've been confused and forgetful my whole life."

Ned let out a chuckle, and Peter's chest felt a little lighter. "Yeah… So long as you don't forget to make all the newest Lego Star Wars sets with me."

"Never. What set are we on, anyways?" Peter couldn't quite remember the last time him and Ned had gotten together to add onto their Lego collection.

"We were in the middle of building the Millennium Falcon. We've been working on it for _months_. You've been so busy that we've barely even had the time to get together lately."

Peter felt as though his heart had ceased beating. He didn't remember starting that one. For a moment, the world stopped.

"_Months?"_

Peter hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until he saw Ned's eyes widen.

"Uh- I-I mean-"

"Ned…" Peter asked, feeling apprehensive. "What day is it today…?"

Ned swallowed hard. "It's Sunday."

There it was. Unspecified. Sunday.

But _which Sunday? _

"Ned, _what day is it_?" He repeated, more urgently this time. He _needed_ to know how much time he'd lost.

Ned twitched, but his mouth remained firmly shut.

"_Ned!_"

The door opened, and Peter was about to turn his frustration to Dr. Cho. But this time, it wasn't her.

Holy _shit_.

A man who Peter had seen many times on TV was standing in the doorframe. While it was unquestionably who Peter thought he was, Peter was shocked at his current appearance. All the times he'd been on the news, he'd either been savvily dressed in fancy suits and jackets, with perfectly combed hair and sunglasses that probably cost more than Peter's entire wardrobe, or flying through the sky like a red and gold missile. Now, the only portion of the man that remained the same as it did in the press was his trademark goatee; He was wearing, rather than a suit, a ratty pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt that Peter noticed had what looked like a flour stain on it. His dark hair was messy and strands were sticking out all over the place.

Where the general public (of which Peter was a part of) usually saw a satisfied smirk and confident eyes, now the man looked like he was holding back tears.

Peter squeaked in surprise, unable to form words.

"Oh, _thank_ _god_-"

Without another word, the man raced towards him and wrapped Peter in a tight hug, a hand on his head. Peter's arms stayed firmly at his sides, his entire body frozen in shock.

"Never, _ever_, do that again, kid." He whispered. His voice was filled with a rough sincerity. One that he would _not_ be holding had Peter been a stranger.

Peter couldn't believe his eyes, ears, or anything that was happening. _Tony freakin' Stark_ was here. _Hugging him_.

Tony-

His mind felt as though it were on a leash. So close to a memory that it could see it, but not quite close enough to touch it.

Peter barely noticed as his arms and legs went nearly numb. He felt as though his awareness of just about everything was slipping out of his grasp. It was an out-of body experience, but he didn't know where he'd gone.

His eyes slipped into the back of his head, and he was once again plunged into darkness.


	3. Chapter two

**Hi everybody!**

**Sorry for the late chapter this week. It was my birthday this weekend so things were really busy and I didn't get the chance to finish this chapter up until today. I will hopefully still get the next chapter out by Sunday. I again just want to thank you guys for all the follows, favourites and reviews as they really mean a lot to me and keep me inspired to write this story. **

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter! :)**

Tony Stark hated feeling out of control. Yet, it was something that he was all too familiar with.

When he'd been abducted and attached to a car battery. Dying from a poison that was saving him from a different kind of death. Being locked away as Aldrich Killian turned the woman he loved into some kind of human bomb. Lying next to a suit he had created, unable to open it, with no idea whether his best friend was dead or alive inside. And now, stuck outside a medical room, wracking his brain for any and everything he knew about unprecedented seizures. So far, it had been supplying him with absolutely nothing. He had no idea how to help. Helene had told him he was helping by giving her space with Peter, but it certainly didn't feel like it.

Seeing Peter black out on the floor of his bedroom after returning from an extremely late night patrol had been terrifying. Him waking up two days later only to begin convulsing as soon as Tony saw him had somehow felt worse.

Tony wished he had something to tinker with. He was drumming his fingers against his side, full of restless energy. His hands were shaking too much for him to have been able to make anything of use, but it might have at least given Tony a slight sense of control.

At that moment, he was very much trapped in the past. He remembered hearing his parents were dead. That Coulson was dead. That Bruce was missing. Being told Rhodey may never walk again. The vision Wanda had placed in his head all those years ago resurfaced- Of Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Thor and Steve; all dead. His fault.

He remembered storming into the med bay the second he'd heard Peter was awake, despite the warnings Helene had ordered FRIDAY to give him. Hugging Peter tightly, _so glad _that he was okay, only to feel his body begin to thrash, flailing like a fish out of water, eyes rolled to the back of his head.

_My fault._

Tony turned around sharply, struck by the need to do something, _anything, _and reached out for the door handle to the med bay. Tony Stark was nothing if not a man who could fix things. He had to _fix_ this.

He was about to turn the knob and storm into the room when he heard a squeak of surprise from his side.

Tony glanced towards the sound and exhaled. The source was a shocked and pale Ned Leeds. Tony had almost forgotten he was there amongst his internal torment.

When him and Tony met eyes, there was a pause. Ned cleared his throat

"Didn't- Didn't Dr. Cho say she needed to be alone?" Ned spoke softly, but to Tony it felt like a punch in the gut.

He swiftly removed his hand from the door handle. Part of him wanted to retort that he's Peter's guardian and can do whatever he damn wants when it comes to the kid, but he knew that truthfully, Ned was right. Helene had basically told Tony herself- She would be able to help Peter much better on her own than with him, distressed and someone who, while a slef-proclaimed genius, was not medically trained.

He turned to face Ned, taking him in, and somehow managed to feel grateful for something in these trying times- That Peter had and has such a caring friend amongst everything that's happened to him. When Peter hadn't shown up to school that Friday, Ned had texted him immediately. After receiving no reply after a few hours, he began to worry. Peter apparently always texted him asking for notes if he missed school. Ned had stated it was _especially_ unusual for him to miss since they'd had a physics test that morning. Although he hadn't had a way to contact Tony, he'd somehow managed to get to Pepper, (which, without a direct line, was still extremely difficult) who updated him on the situation. He had apparently rushed to the Avengers compound the moment he got the chance. Although Tony had never formally met Ned before, from what he'd heard about him, he'd expected him to be even more excited during his first compound visit than Peter had been. Instead, Ned had barely taken the chance to look around, his thoughts resting solely on Peter, and anything he could do to help him. He'd visited every day since.

Ned had been a good distraction for Tony while Peter's condition had seemed bleakest, and he hoped he'd been able to do the same for the kid. He could see why him and Peter got along so well. Even while so worried, Tony had occasionally managed to distract him with Star Wars and Avengers trivia. He'd seemed lively yet nervous, and Tony couldn't blame him. He imagined this weekend had been an emotional rollercoaster for him- Meeting, in Peter's words, one of his 'heroes', who was now the legal guardian of his best friend, who was in a coma.

Currently, the kid was standing at the side of the hall, hands fiddling with his shirt, eyes puffy. Outwardly, he appeared to be handling the situation better than Tony; But Tony knew better than to assume that was true.

"Sorry kid. Just... frustrated." The words fell out of his mouth before he even had the chance to think them. Tony was more than a little surprised to see that instead of looking distrustful of him, Ned looked rather sympathetic.

He quickly looked down, and Tony turned away, mental gears beginning to whir to life once more. But it was short-lived, as a moment later, Ned broke the silence.

"Peter told me that you always, erm... always feel like you have to be strong, uh, around other people, even when you're feeling..." He paused, seeming unable to find the words. "But uh, you don't have to be right now. Around me, I mean." Ned sniffled, and Tony couldn't believe was he was hearing.

This sixteen year old's best friend was having blackouts and now an unprecedented seizure that _top doctors_ couldn't seem to figure out, and yet, Ned was acting more mature than Tony was in this situation. He was _worried _about _Iron Man_.

_Damn it, _Tony thought, I'm_ supposed to be the adult here._

He'd always been pretty lousy at being the 'adult' in the room, no matter who he was with, but that had never bugged him in the past. He supposed once you were responsible for a kid, these things started to matter a lot more.

Tony didn't have time to dwell on it, as soon Ned shakily asked a question Tony was certain he'd been holding in for a while.

"Do you think he'll be okay? Really?"

Tony gulped. He knew Ned was asking for the truth. No sugar coating, no 'He's strong' with no _real_ answer. But Tony wasn't sure he could give him what he wanted, because Tony wasn't sure if he was even able to tell himself the truth.

"Yeah, kid." He said simply. _He has to be._

Ned nodded, although Tony wasn't sure if he believed him. They returned to silence, too deep in their own thoughts to worry too much about one another. It was only once Helene appeared in the doorway, looking rather frazzled, that either of them perked up.

"What's the situation?" Tony asked, voice holding desperation despite his best attempts to keep it cool and collected. Helene's face looked grim, and it was filling Tony head to toe with barely-controllable anxiety.

"He's stable." She stated. Tony let out a breath, and he heard Ned do the same. Helene's next note, however, surprised him. " And conscious. He asked for a moment to himself. Once I saw that his vitals were alright, I let him be so I could update you two."

"Unfortunately, I have no idea what the cause of the seizure is. It doesn't make sense with his other symptoms. It may be another problem entirely." Helene had been updated on Peter's medical history while he'd been unconscious, and knew that seizures were not a problem he'd ever had; Pre or post spider bite.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ned asked, his voice this time holding restrained optimism.

"He appears to have suffered no further permanent brain damage."

Tony's heart felt as though it had stopped.

"_Further?_" He questioned.

Helene pulled out her notes, taking a quick glance over them as if to assure that she hadn't missed anything. "While he was awake, I discovered that our hypothesis was correct. He's suffering from memory loss. I believe it may be more severe than we'd anticipated…."

Tony gulped. Memory loss. When he'd first heard Helene claim that that was what was going on in Peter's head, he'd felt relieved. He had thought that was something they could deal with, as long as the kid was still breathing and otherwise okay. Now, he was having second thoughts.

"However, apart from that, he seemed to be doing fine until-"

"How_ 'severe'_?"

Helene paused, and furrowed her eyebrows. A small frown appeared on her face. "I'm not entirely certain, but he seems to believe that his Aunt and Uncle are still alive and well."

_No._

_No, no no-_

"That means-"

"He doesn't remember me." The words held a weight Tony hadn't expected, even though he had spoken them quickly. The kid was fine. He was going to be fine. Yet-

All those moments with Peter. First finding out he was Spider-man, and being taken aback that a _fifteen year old_ was the one putting himself in harm's way- Stopping cars, webbing criminals, swinging in the streets- all in order to help other people. Meeting the kid, and discovering that he was not only brave, but _smart as hell_. Taking him to Germany, seeing his excitement upon receiving his new suit. Fooling around with him in the lab as part of his 'Stark Internship.' Taking him in after his Aunt had disappeared- Spending day and night researching the disappearances to try and figure out who had taken her. All the moments- Good, bad, and everything in between- were _gone_ for Peter.

And that wasn't the worst of it. The poor kid would have to go through the trauma of losing not one, but _two_ parental figures who had raised him and that he adored, _a second time._

Tony didn't know if Peter could handle it.

Scratch that- Peter could handle it. He was strong, and smart, and he had made it through many terrible things and remained a good person. But he shouldn't _have to_. It was cruel of the world to inflict that much loss on a boy who did nothing but good, risking his own safety daily in order to preserve the safety of others.

Tony didn't know if _he_ could handle watching Peter in that much pain all over again, this time as a stranger. This time, unable to help.

He _would_ help, of course- Medically, financially- but where it mattered most, Tony couldn't help in the same way he had all those months ago. To Peter, he was nothing more than a stranger who he'd seen on TV. And that truth hit him harder than a ton of bricks. (Which, Tony had indeed been hit with before.)

Ned's words brought him back to reality. "Can we see him?"

Helene gave a nod. "Your presence earlier seemed to help him regulate. If it's not too much-"

Before Helene could finish her sentence, Ned was wiping the few tears away from his eyes and walking towards the door. Helene smiled softly and ushered him in. As Tony approached to do the same, she swiftly closed it.

Tony was about to protest, only to see Helene looking at him pointedly. Biting back his words, he settled his irritation at being stopped by returning her stare with a equally pointed glare.

"I know I can't stop you." Her words were slow, no doubt carefully chosen. "But I do want you to keep his situation in mind. You're not simply a stranger to him, Mr. Stark. You're a celebrity. A _superhero_."

"Yeah, well, so's he-" Tony retorted, trying to push past Helene.

"Are you certain that _Peter's_ aware of that?"

That gave Tony pause.

He knew Peter's Uncle had died months before they'd met, and he'd gotten his powers six months before they'd met.

That was pretty close. Tony wasn't certain which of the events had come first.

He turned his head down and gave Helene a small nod. Knowing Tony had got the message, she gave him one last warning glance before opening the door to let him in.

This time, rather than barging in, Tony kept his steps slow and small, stopping near the edge of the room, deciding to watch Peter and Ned from a distance.

He couldn't help a sigh of relief as he saw Peter looking mostly alright. Much more pale and exhausted than he had twenty minutes ago, sure, but very much breathing and minimally injured.

Tony was surprised Peter had been willing to see anybody, but he supposed his advanced healing was probably playing a part in that. Tony was glad (albeit a twinge jealous) to see Ned by his side, holding Peter's hand and offering a comfort in familiarity that Tony knew he could no longer supply.

"Has anything changed since we last spoke, Mr Parker?" Helene asked gently.

Peter shook his head slightly, moving frighteningly little for a kid who was usually so energetic. "Still confused." He mumbled.

"Well, that's to be expected…" Helene pulled up a chair, sitting across from Ned and Peter. Tony, although he wanted to pull up a chair with her, remained standing at the back of the room, not trusting himself to act 'appropriately'; Or, rather, in a way that wouldn't overwhelm Peter. Simply being there was going to have to be enough for now.

"After hearing a little more about your symptoms, Mr. Parker, we can say for certain that you are suffering from severe memory loss due to the introduction of an unknown substance into your body." Peter nodded, eyes on the floor. He'd already come to this conclusion himself.

"But why would anybody wanna drug _me?_" He asked. His voice seemed fearful.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek. He could think about one very, _very _big reason why. Unless Peter was _really_ good at lying in order to keep his identity secret (which Tony _knew _he wasn't), the kid didn't remember a thing about his powers. Tony let the disappointment crash over him like a wave made of lead.

"We aren't certain, Mr. Parker."

"What kind of drug?"

Helene sighed. "It… Appears to be some sort of new drug, maybe one only hitting black markets recently. Unfortunately, it seems to have flushed out of your system, leaving minimal behind to trace what it was made of."

Peter's eyes went wide. "Oh-Oh my god-" His breaths turned shallow. "A-Am I gonna be okay-? Am I gonna get paralyzed? O-Or get Cancer, o-or-"

"Mr. Parker." Helene had an unusual coolness to her voice, and Peter snapped his jaw shut, and Tony could tell he was trying (and failing) to keep himself from shaking. Tony knew he was on the edge of some sort of panic or anxiety attack, and felt helpless for the umpteenth time that day. He knew approaching would make it worse, knew exactly how horrible the experience would be either way, yet he was completely unable to do a _thing_ to help-

Tony's shaking hands once again ached to be working on something mechanical, or even have a pen or pencil to twirl around.

"We aren't certain of many of the facts surrounding your current condition, but we are doing _everything_ we can to help. Trust me, you're in good hands."

Peter nodded, and the phrase seemed to give him a little bit of comfort. It was at this moment, however, that he noticed Tony in the corner of the room. Tony stiffened, frozen to the spot. Their eyes locked for a tense second, and Tony could tell Peter was having some sort of internal battle. Although he knew it was impossible, Tony couldn't help but think-

'_C'mon, Pete, it's me. It's Tony. You remember. You remember.'_

But when Peter peeled his eyes away without any sign of recognition, rather with a twinge of discomfort, Tony knew he couldn't remain in denial any longer.

He turned and walked dejectedly to the other side of the room, where a medium-sized plant was sitting. It was potted, trapped to the ground, roots constrained in one small spot while they wished to roam free. Tony ran his fingers over the leaves, feeling just as constrained, before plucking one off. He knew it wouldn't supply the same sort of a release that something mechanic would have, it was at least something he could do.

He began twisting it between his fingers, focusing on the way the stem connected naturally to the body, where it spread smooth and bright, almost like a flower. It was pretty, but not beautiful in the way a fine tuned machine, gears placed in precisely the right position in order to function in harmony, was.

"Is that why Tony Stark is here?" Peter's startled voice interrupted Tony's thoughts. "Is he researching what's happened to me?" His eyes went wide. "Oh-Oh god, that must've cost a _fortune_\- Is that why Aunt May and Uncle Ben aren't here? Are they trying to figure out some way to pay for this?" Peter's breathes shallower out once more as he panicked, and Tony couldn't bite back his words any longer.

"Nah, kid." He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the leaf in his palm. "This one's on the house. Don't worry about the money. Really." His words are clipped, and even with something in his hands Tony still felt off-balance, but Peter didn't seem to notice.

"O-Oh." His voice deflated. Kid was probably confused as all hell, but he was still conscious, and he hadn't started convulsing, so that was a good sign.

_I haven't screwed up yet. _Tony thought.

"Where are they then? Aunt May and Uncle Ben?"

Tension filled the room. Tony closed his eyes, feeling heat rise to his face. He didn't understand how he could be so suddenly overcome with emotion while already feeling so emotional, but hey, sometimes life's a bitch.

When he was met by silence, Peter asked again.

"Where- Where are they?" He blinked rapidly, as though somehow that would make the somber faces surrounding him disappear. "Dr. Cho? _Ned?"_

Tony was unable to look away from Peter, even though the sight broke his heart. The kid turned from Helene to Ned, who remained wordless. When his eyes finally settled on Tony, he realized that even though Peter couldn't remember him, he should be the one to deliver the news, _had_ to be the one. That's why Helene wasn't speaking.

A single tear slipped that Tony couldn't manage to stop. He knew that he about to ruin Peter's life.

Again.

"Peter-"

Peter seemed taken aback hearing Tony address him by his first name. Perhaps he'd been expecting a more formal "Mr. Parker" similar to how Helene had been addressing him.

Tony couldn't help himself from choking up. Everything about this situation was simply _wrong_. The fact that a next-to-stranger had to tell him this news; News he shouldn't have to hear, that he didn't even realize he'd already heard.

Tony stopped to take a deep breath. If the swirling mix of emotions in his gut were bad, he couldn't begin to imagine how _Peter_ must have been feeling.

_Stay strong for the kid._

"Your Aunt and Uncle have passed. I'm so sorry, Peter."

Peter's eyes filled first with disbelief, then turned dark. He looked to Helene for confirmation, and then to Ned, who had silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Peter-" Ned started

"No-" Peter barely spoke, his voice sounding more like a exhale than coherent words. The exhaustion that filled him dispersed to make room for grief, a grief Tony knew all too well. The room was silent, everybody waiting, no idea what for.

Then, Peter screamed.

Ned had to let go of Peter's hand to hold his ears. Helene flinched. Tony took a step back. It wasn't the reaction any of them were expecting. He wasn't even screaming 'May', 'Ben', 'no', or anything of the sort. He was just screaming, loud and emotion filled wails that meant nothing yet everything at all, and they didn't stop. Tony could see the tears begin to fall from Peter's eyes, but Peter didn't stop. He barely moved, or even breathed, not until he physically couldn't scream any longer, the ear-splitting sound replaced by a sputtering cough, which soon became a fit of coughs. Tony felt as though his brain was put on pause.

He didn't know what to do. None of them did.

Peter coughed for a long while. When he could cough no longer, his heavy breathing was the only sound in the room. Ned moved his hand towards Peter, but seemed to think better of it and pulled back before touching him. He quickly scanned the hospital room, as if looking for something to help, but mustn't have found anything, as he didn't move.

After what felt like hours, Peter spoke, his voice hoarse and low.

"Say it." He glared up at Tony, and all Tony could see was his twenty-one year old self staring back. Dark, anger filled eyes that he hadn't seen from Peter, _ever_, not even when May had first gone missing. But ones that years ago were always in his own mirror.

Tony is taken aback, filled with a shaky sort of dread. He couldn't respond. All he could think about was Obadiah's response when Tony's parents died. _"S'alright, Son, now it's your chance to make the world your own."_

And he'd made weapons that had killed millions.

He ripped the leaf in half, and Helene took over the conversation, telling Peter what he needed to hear; Something Tony would later scold himself for being unable to do.

"Ben and May Parker have died. I'm sorry, Peter."

Peter scrunched up his face, more tears falling, and began rubbing his hands up and down over his head while shaking it, seemingly unable to process this, unable to process _anything_. Ned reached towards him once again, this time placing his hand firmly on his shoulder, but Peter shoved him off. He grunted, ripping the blanket off of himself and jumping out of the bed with a hard _thump_. He began to pace back and forth, shaking his head frantically, before his legs gave out on him and he fell to the floor with an even harder _whap_.

Ugly sobs began to escape him and his form trembled. Mumbles of incoherent words and phrases could barely be made out among the sound, but Tony was certain that he heard '_unfair_', '_why_' and some rather unpleasant curses. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Tony rushed to Peter's side, ready to pull him into a hug, or offer some form of comfort, when he's pushed away. Peter's small hands felt weak, shaking like loose leaves during an earthquake. It hit Tony in that moment that Peter had never looked so small.

All the while, Tony's chest had been filling with cold, deep dread. He hadn't known Peter when his Uncle had passed, and he hadn't been with him when he found out about May. Tony knew what grief could do to a person, had experienced it first-hand- But he still hadn't expected _this_. It was impossible to predict how anybody would react to hearing that a loved one had died, but nothing Tony had imagined had managed to feel this horrible. He felt as though a wolf had grabbed his heart and pierced it with claws of ice, refusing to let go. Peter didn't deserve this. Not a single bit.

When Peter collapsed again, Tony tried once more to approach him, this time laying a tentative hand on his shoulder. Peter flinched at first, but when Tony didn't move away, he turned and hugged him. It felt more as though he were grasping for a lifeboat while drowning than a hug, but Tony returned it nonetheless, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay.

Tony knew all too well that Peter was imagining he was hugging his uncle and not Iron Man. There were a million things he wanted to say- But nothing that would have mattered. The two didn't say a thing, locked in a hug that both had needed desperately.

Gradually, Peter's shaky breathing turned to deep breathes, and Tony could feel some tension leave Peter's body. Only a moment later, Peter released the hug. Tony, although a small, selfish, part of him wished to hold on a little longer, followed suit.

Tony stared at Peter, but Peter kept his eyes away.

It wasn't until he felt a tap on his shoulder from Helene that Tony realized that Peter needed space. Once he had the chance to be, the kid would probably be embarrassed he'd reacted so strongly in front of Tony and Ned, (although he had no reason to be) and Tony didn't want to make that worse by being there when that happened.

With one last glance at Peter, Tony pushed himself up and towards the door, footsteps slow and steady. It _killed _him to leave Peter alone at a time like this, but he had to remember what Helene had told him- To Peter, he's a celebrity. Nothing more.

Once he was out of the room, Tony casual rubbed his eyes dry, trying to play it off as something nonchalant. He blinked a few times, trying to shake away the shock, frustration and hopeless feelings. He was about to head down to the lab for something to do when Helene placed a hand on his shoulder.

He looks towards her and she glanced at Ned. Tony understood what she was trying to say- Help the kid before drowning in your own guilt. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Mr Leeds." She said softly before approaching him. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Ned shook his head. "S'okay…" He mumbled, but he was obviously shaken up.

"He'll… Probably want to be alone, or resting for the remainder of the evening." Helene claimed, glancing at Tony. He wasn't sure what she wanted him to do, but he obviously wasn't doing it very well.

"I- I think I'm, uh, gonna go home then…" Ned took a few steps towards the exit, looking defeated. "Call me if he decides he wants to see me."

It's then that Tony realized Helene was pushing him to get Ned home. The poor kid probably needed to debrief, talk with his family, distract himself with a movie. Not just wait around aimlessly at the compound.

"You need a ride, Ned?" Tony asked.

"Uh- No, sir,- Mom's at work, but I can take the bus-"

Tony scoffed. "No way am I letting you take the bus after witnessing that. Let me text Happy, he'll take you home."

"Th-Thanks, Mr. Stark."

Tony flashed him a weak smile before pulling out his phone and to text Happy.

_Ned needs a ride home, you available?_

Thankfully, he received a reply seconds later.

_Of course, Boss. I'll be there in ten._

Another text pops up,

_Any news on Peter?_

Tony once again cleared his throat, sending back a simple response.

_He's awake._

He slipped his phone in his pocket. He didn't feel like he could update Happy on the details of the situation without tearing up again.

"Happy'll be here in ten, why don't you head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water? I'll meet you there." Tony said, trying his best to make his voice sound cheery.

Ned looked hesitant, but did as he was told. Once he was out of sight, Tony deflated. A few more tears streaked down his cheeks and he hastily wiped them away.

After a moment's hesitation, Helene spoke. "Would you like me to contact Ms. Potts?" She asked.

Tony thought back to that morning. Pepper had flown into New York and been staying at the Avengers compound ever since she'd heard Peter had gone unconscious, but that didn't mean her work had stopped. She'd taken a whole day off to comfort and spend time with Tony, which was an unusual luxury, but hadn't been able to get out of a couple of her meetings today. She was currently out at her last one, and while Tony knew if he called and told her what happened she'd be on her way to the compound that minute, he didn't want to be the cause of even _more _overdue work resting on her shoulders.

"No- No. Pep needs to be in those meetings. I'll see her tonight."

Helene didn't retaliate, and Tony took that as his cue to leave. He headed to the kitchen and stayed with Ned until Happy arrived, but neither person felt particularly up to talking about their feelings.

When Ned left with a simple "Bye Mr. Stark. I'll see you tomorrow." Tony didn't wait a minute before heading down to the lab. Once he finally reached it, however, he didn't find the relief he was hoping for. In fact, he began to feel _worse._

Hours passed, but Tony's hands were still shaking.


	4. Chapter three

**A/N** **Hi everyone… So, I'm back! I have no excuses for the delay on this, but I will say that I'm planning on continuing this story and I really hope that you enjoy this chapter :) **

I had taken a small eternity before Peter had felt ready (or rather, desperate enough) to leave the hospital room.

The tears had been on and off, with minutes bleeding into hours at an alarming rate. His earlier plight, which had been stronger than anything he'd ever felt before, had evaporated into an uncomfortable, senseless stupor.

His arms and legs felt far too heavy. He'd been looking at the roof for so long that the creamy white felt more unseeing than when his eyes were closed. The only thing that gave Peter any sense of reality was the twisted knot of hunger in his stomach.

He didn't feel alive. Because this wasn't his life. This _couldn't _be his life.

Peter had, technically speaking, been an orphan since the age of four. But he'd never truly felt like one until that day, because Aunt May and Uncle Ben had been his parents.

And now they were gone.

Peter didn't have any living grandparents, or cousins, or even third-cousins twice removed. May and Ben had been the last of his family.

He hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye… That he could remember, anyway.

A heavy sigh escaped Peter's lips, and he closed his eyes. Fatigue grasped at his shoulders, trying hard to lull him into a dreamless sleep, one he was sure he'd fallen in and out of throughout the night. But if he didn't eat now, Peter wasn't sure he'd ever feel full again.

He'd been lying down for so long that he was almost surprised when he successfully pushed himself up into a sitting position. What didn't shock him was the resulting rush of blood to his head, and the loss of vision that followed.

He blinked, and once he could see again, pushed himself onto his feet. They felt heavy and uneven, and as he took a step forward, his stomach lurched. He didn't want to eat anymore.

_Focus, Peter. _He told himself. He'd been in a self-pity puddle for too long, and while he knew he couldn't get himself out of it, he desperately needed a change of pace. Even if he felt too sick for food, a glass of water would do him some good.

He'd made it halfway across the room, and to his surprise was starting to feel a little more normal, when his foot snagged on a wire. Too disoriented to catch himself, Peter dropped to the floor, the resulting _smack_ ringing in his ears like a swarm of bees, before a loud crash sounded behind him.

He turned towards the noise, to see a wire still connected to what Peter assumed was some sort of heart monitor, the glass screen shattered on its side. With a sigh, Peter pushed himself back up to investigate the mess, and saw the monitor had fallen off of a nearby medical trolley.

"_Nothing_ is going to work out today, is it?" He mumbled.

He knelt down to pick up the monitor, making sure his hands were steady before lifting, as it looked pretty heavy. He was surprised to find it easy to lift as his backpack, which made things a lot easier.

As he placed it down, he heard an unfamiliar voice ring out from behind him.

"Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?"

Peter jumped back, surprised, and yelped as he felt a sharp pain in his foot. He limped backwards, sitting down so he could inspect the injury, and found a large piece of the monitor screen lodged in the sole. He quickly pulled the shard out with a hiss, and turned back towards the mysterious voice, but he didn't see anyone around.

"Hello…?" He called out. Maybe they were in a broom closet or something?

"Hello, Mr. Parker."

The same voice. Peter searches the room. No nearby closets for the person to be hiding.

"Where are you?" He asked. "_Who _are you?"

"I am Female Intelligent Digital Assistant Youth, but you may refer to me as FRIDAY. I am an artificial intelligence system created by Tony Stark. Would you like me to contact him?"

Peter's eyes went wide. Of course, it was an AI. She sounded much more human than Siri and Alexa, but that made sense, now that Peter knew she was made by Tony Stark.

But why would he be talking to Iron Man's AI? It wasn't like that technology was made available to anyone. Sure, he'd seen him earlier, but-

The reason hit Peter all at once. It was crazy, but it was the only logical explanation.

"Am I in _Tony Stark's house_?"

"No, Mr. Parker, you are currently in the Avengers compound."

Peter's mouth fell open. He almost felt like laughing. The _Avengers Compound?_ Him and Ned had been dreaming about visiting this place for _years_. They had an ongoing joke about how they were going to break in one day.

Yet Peter was there right now. Certainly not under the circumstances he'd imagined, though…

Peter couldn't stop the dark chuckle from escaping his lips.

"I have alerted Mr. Stark. He is currently on his way to the medical bay." Friday said, seeming to have taken Peter's stunned silence as an answer.

Peter glanced towards the broken monitor and glass shards at his feet, not to mention a new stain of blood forming on the floor beneath his foot.

If he was in the Avenger's compound, then this was _Avengers _level medical-gear. If he had to pay to replace this, he'd be in debt for the rest of his _life._

"Shit. Shit, _shit-_"

He was about to get up and clean up the mess, maybe take a closer look at the extent of the damage to the monitor, but didn't make it more than ten steps before he heard the sound of the door creaking open.

Although he'd already met the superhero twice in the past twenty four hours, Peter was still shocked (and a little star-struck) at the sight of the man. Brown hair with strings of gray at the sides, goatee combed to perfection. He was wearing oil-stained jeans and a plain black t-shirt, no doubt working in the lab before Peter had interrupted him.

Seeing his hero and realizing that earlier he'd clung onto him like a baby made Peter's cheeks redden with shame. He averted his eyes, only to be reminded of the mess around him, which made him feel even worse.

Mr. Stark's eyes went wide. He seemed taken aback by the sight, and why wouldn't he be? Sixteen year old kid in a hospital gown sitting behind a broken heart monitor, surrounded by shattered glass and blood? What a mess.

"What the hell-?" Mr. Stark questioned.

Peter's heart sank to his knees.

"I- I- I'm so sorry, I was just-" Peter grappled for the right words. He kept his gaze on the floor, knowing if he met Mr. Stark's gaze all of this would become even more real.

"Silly of me to think I wouldn't walk in to some sort of disaster." Mr. Stark chuckled. The words were meant to be light-hearted, but Peter's chest felt ready to collapse in shame. He'd already made a fool of himself crying earlier, and now-

"Woah, kid, don't worry, I was only joking." Mr. Stark said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I can easily get a replacement monitor. It's not a big deal."

Peter sniffled, unsure what to say. It seemed Mr. Stark wasn't sure either, and it wasn't until he noticed the blood on the floor that he spoke again.

"You're hurt-"

"Oh, it's uh- It's nothing-"

"Let me look at it."

"No, wait, you don't have to-"

But before Peter could finish his sentence, Mr. Stark was beside him, making a tutting noise as he inspected the cut on Peter's foot.

"Wait here." He said, turning and walking out the door. Peter wanted to protest, but knew better than to do so. If the cut had been somewhere else, he could've easily handled it, but being in somewhere so unfamiliar and a walking impairment, he decided that maybe it was best Mr. Stark grab him the bandage.

When Mr. Stark did return, however, it was with more than just a bandage. He was also carrying a small bottle of water, what looked like some sort of gauze, cotton swabs and a cloth.

He quickly poured some water on the cloth and began to wipe the blood away from Peter's foot.

"Pretty nasty cut." He muttered, "How big a piece of glass did you step on?"

"Medium, I guess." Peter said with a shrug. "Your AI scared me…"

A smile tugged at the edge of Mr. Stark's lips. "Oh yeah? Fri, what'd you say to scare him? Not some reference to a movie where robots take over, I hope."

"I simply asked if he wanted me to alert you, boss."

"S'okay kid, I get it, she can be pretty scary sometimes." Mr. Stark winked, and Peter found himself taken aback by the way the man was acting. It was just so… _Tony Stark_. It reminded Peter of just how real his current situation was.

Mr. Stark grabbed a cotton swab, and put some of the unknown gauze onto it. Peter felt a little nervous to ask questions, scared he'd come across as rude or ungrateful, but when he saw it was a light shade of blue, his curiosity won out.

"What _is_ that?"

"Oh, just some antimicrobials. It's like Bruce's ultra-enhanced version of neosporin."

"Bruce? As in, Bruce Banner?"

"No, Bruce Willis. He likes to visit and make his own medication when he's not making movies somewhere." Mr. Stark joked. "_Yes,_ Bruce Banner."

Peter couldn't believe it. _Bruce Banner._

Peter had studied him in science class, admired him and the things his research had brought to light. Not to mention that when his experiment had gone wrong and created the Hulk, Banner had decided to use that to_ help_ people. Save lives.

Was he here? In a room outside the med bay, sleeping peacefully, having no idea the impact he'd made in Peter's life.

Having no idea that he, along with the other avengers, had saved him when he was merely eleven?

Peter didn't live in New York City, so he knew he'd missed the worst of the impact during the attack of New York in 2012. But he remembered the fear crystal clear. Aunt May and Uncle Ben hurriedly packing up their things so that they could get as far away from the attacks as possible, were the then unknown Avengers to lose and Loki to take over the rest of the state. They'd had no idea about the nuke headed their way, that would've surely killed or seriously hurt them had it landed, no matter how far they'd gotten.

It was that night that the Avengers were born. But that hadn't been the first time one of them had saved Peter's life.

He remembered being eight, maybe nine, and _so_ excited to go to the Stark expo. Uncle Ben and Aunt May had given him the tickets for his birthday, and he had no doubt that they'd had to dig into their savings to get them.

In all honesty, he didn't remember the night as clearly as he should've. But he did remember the attack, and losing sight of Uncle Ben and Aunt May in the chaos. He remembered one of the drones slamming down in front of him. He'd been absolutely terrified, but had asked himself, _What would Iron Man do?_

Helmet already securely over his head, Peter had raised his arm repulsor to fire. His only shortcoming? His version was made out of plastic.

But it blasted anyways. It wasn't until Peter heard the voice from behind him that he realized what had actually happened.

"Nice work, kid."

The man was only there for a second, but to Peter it had felt like forever. The red and gold suit he'd admired in pictures had been inches away, standing behind him elegantly as a statue. While that day had been one of Peter's most terrifying, when he looked back on that moment, he didn't remember the guns that had been pointed at him. He remembered being _saved _by _Iron Man._

_Nice work, kid._

Peter's breath caught in his throat as he watched that same man bandage up his foot.

"Annnd… Good as new. Nearly. You should be able to walk normally on it again in the morning." Mr. Stark turned up to face him, and saw the shocked and tearful expression on his face.

"You alright, kid?"

Peter hadn't ever really thought about how easily he could've died that day. He wondered if Mr. Stark realized that the kid he'd saved that day was Peter. Did he even remember that moment? Probably not.

"Y-Yeah, just-" Peter suddenly felt overcome with gratitude, but couldn't find the right words to express it. Not only had Mr. Stark saved the entire city, as well as countless other lives, he'd saved Peter. If that hadn't happened, Peter never would've gone to high school. Learned science. Met Ned.

There was a beat of silence. "Just…?" Mr. Stark prompted.

"Overwhelmed." It wasn't what Peter had wanted to say, but it certainly rang true. Peter felt more overwhelmed now then he ever had before, and that he hoped to ever be again. The gratitude, grief and confusion (not to mention hunger and lack of sleep) were so much that they were giving him a headache.

"That's… completely understandable." Mr. Stark's face fell, and Peter had a hard time deciphering his emotions. It took less than a moment for his demeanor to shift, a small smile on his face.

"Why don't we get out of here? You've been here all day, you're probably dying to change out of that thing." Mr. Stark gestured to Peter's hospital gown.

Peter nodded, and Mr. Stark led him slowly out of the med bay, Peter walking with a slight limp to keep pressure off his foot.

"Wait here, I'm going to grab you some clothes." Before Peter had the chance to respond, Mr. Stark was off, rapidly talking to Friday as he left.

Peter took a long look around him. He was currently in a waiting area, not much to it, cream walls, brown chairs and a bench, and to his side, a large window.

Peter found himself drawn towards it, and opened it. The nighttime air felt cool and clean, and helped calm Peter's nerves. He could vaguely make out a vast green field below him, as well as what looked like an outdoor track, and out of place facts started to come back to him.

He remembered reading that Captain America could run nearly forty miles per hour. That Hawkeye could throw three darts simultaneously and hit a triple bullseye with minimal effort. That Black Widow had mastered over eleven forms of martial arts.

And he was in the same building where all of them- And more heroes- had trained, and mastered the skills they'd needed to save countless lives.

They were always busy dealing with some sort of mission, a major threat that could easily win what they wanted had it not been for the Avengers.

So why were they housing _him? _Why was Iron Man grabbing him new clothes, instead of some foster worker?

That's where Peter was headed, after he healed, he was certain. He was terrified- He was sixteen, and he knew from books and movies that nobody liked a teenager.

He'd also read about the terrible conditions- Kids not being properly cared for or fed, all kinds of abuse-

"What's gonna happen to me?'' He wondered aloud. Midtown tech was a pretty prestigious school; Would he even be allowed to go there anymore? If he was switching schools, would there be a chance of him switching cities? Everyone he'd ever met- Ned, Liz, Michelle, even Mr. Delmar- He might never see them again.

If a system meant for kids like him wouldn't care, why on earth would the Avengers? And why him- Of all the hundreds of kids in New York who would love to be here, of the kids who have been looking for a home for ages and haven't found one, why Peter?

He was suddenly hit from behind by a stack of clothes.

"Sorry kid! I called your name a couple times, I figured you knew I was coming."

Peter didn't say anything. He knelt down, careful to keep the weight off his injured foot, and picked up the clothes Mr. Stark had thrown at him. There was a pair of plaid green pyjama pants and a grey_ Stark Industries _t-shirt.

"Why are you helping me?"

"What?"

"Why are you helping me?" Peter was growing frustrated. "There's tons of kids- Sick kids, fostered kids, regular kids- who you could be helping to show your 'soft' side or- or, whatever, just- Why _me?_"

Mr. Stark didn't answer. He didn't even look at him. He seemed to be looking everywhere- At the floors, the walls, even the ceiling- But he wouldn't meet Peter's eyes.

Peter took that as an answer. He gulped. After an outburst like that, he'd be kicked out by morning.

"Where's the washroom?" He mumbled.

"Second door on the right."

Peter turned around. This wasn't fair. He shouldn't be in some unfamiliar place, sick, hungry and confused after the last of his family died. He should have been _explained _things, told what happened to May and Ben, instead of just being left to wonder, theorize, of all the horrible ways they could've died and left him here alone.

He wanted to see Ned again. Maybe- Maybe when Mr. Stark's patience ran dry, Mrs. Leeds could take him in, at least for a bit, so he wouldn't have to go straight into foster care. He'd only need a few days to wrap his head around everything, and then- Then he'd be okay. He'd have to be.

When he reached the washroom, Peter was surprised at how shiny it was. Maybe he shouldn't have been, considering Tony Stark was a multi-billionaire, and the designer of the Avengers compound, but it was just so _different _from his own.

The walls were higher. The shower bigger. The granite newer.

He stepped inside, and to his surprise, the floor was _heated_. That was the cherry on top.

He changed into the pyjamas bottoms, which were thick and soft, a much needed change from the thin and raggedy hospital gown. The t-shirt was standard, but Peter noticed that both of the items felt clean, and _warm_\- Like they'd just been taken out of the dryer.

Peter shook his head. That much care wouldn't have been given on something small like his pyjamas. Mr. Stark probably had heated dressers, or something, so that all his clothes felt like that, even when they were just some old things lying around.

Peter walked over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked, simply put, like crap.

His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, with deep half-moon shaped bags underneath. His hair was completely unruly- Bits and pieces sticking out in all directions. His face looked almost _dirty_\- Although maybe that was an effect given by the noticeable tear stains rolling down them.

Peter turned towards the shower. It was glass, with two separate shower heads hanging from the ceiling- One flat on the ceiling, and one at an angle. He frowned. Maybe it would do him some good, freshening up. There was a clean towel hanging up on the wall beside the sink; He wouldn't have to ask Mr. Stark for help finding anything.

But as he reached towards it, exhaustion set in. He was too tired for a shower right now. Instead, he cupped his hands under the sink, splashing his face with warm water. He'd at least try to get rid of those tear-stains.

After a considerable amount of face-splashing and finger combing, Peter left the bathroom and walked back towards… Wherever him and Mr. Stark had been before, and as he got closer, heard Mr. Stark talking in hushed tones with his AI. Without thinking, he hid behind a wall to eavesdrop.

"…kid can't handle all that right now. I need to have it postponed."

"Yes, Boss. Should I contact the guests?"

"Yeah- Tell them something last minute came up. We'll do it once Peter's a little better."

Peter's heart hammered against his chest at the mention of his name. Guests? What was Mr. Stark postponing? Why was _he_ involved? Mr. Stark sounded tired. Exhausted, really. Was it some sort of press thing? Was _that_ why the Avengers were helping him?

"Yes, boss."

Mr. Stark sighed, and Peter walked back in. The man's eyebrows shot up.

"Peter… How much of that did you hear?"

"What are you postponing?" He asked, ignoring the question.

"Oh, just some meeting- Boring one, too, if you ask me." The usual bravado was back in his voice, and Peter found himself wondering if he'd imagined the earlier exhaustion.

But he knew he hadn't imagined hearing his name. Why was Mr. Stark cancelling a meeting for him?

"You don't have to miss meetings for me." He said, a little cautiously.

"Kid, I cancel meetings all the time. At this point I don't even think investors or recruiters or whatever even_ expect_ me to show up."

Peter wasn't convinced, but he felt too tired to argue.

Mr. Stark checked his watch, and made an over-exaggerated yawning noise. "It's getting late. Teenagers need lots of sleep, right? As much as a toddler, last I heard. How's about I show you to your room and you get some rest?"

"Yeah, uhm… Alright."

Peter hadn't missed the fact that Mr. Stark had said '_your_ room' and not 'the guest room'. He probably meant it in a hotel way, like when hotel attendants showed someone to 'their' room, but for some reason, it still stuck out to Peter.

As the two began making their way to the room, both equally lost in thought, Peter's stomach erupted with loud grumbling. The tips of Peter's ears flushed pink, and Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow.

"Jesus, Pete, when's the last time you ate?"

Peter blinked. Only Uncle Ben ever called him Pete.

"I-Uh- Don't remember."

Mr. Stark sighed. "Right, yeah." The bravado loosened up for a second, but it so quick Peter could've imagined it. "Alright, detour time. _You _need _food. _What do you feel like? Pizza? Burgers?"

Peter shrugged. He knew he was hungry, but he didn't really have any cravings. "Whatever's easiest, I guess."

"You sure, kid? I could have whatever you like delivered to the compound in less than ten minutes."

Peter shook his head, once again wondering why on earth Mr. Stark was doing this for him.

"Frozen pizza and chips it is, then." Mr. Stark made a sharp turn, and Peter followed after.

Once they reached the kitchen, Peter was surprised by how homey it felt, despite how different it was from his own.

The kitchen was _huge_, and held the same 'shiny' feel that the bathroom had. It had tons of counter space, various new-looking appliances, tall brown chairs opposite the cooking area, and a small glass dining room table across from it. A few paces further was an adjoined living room area, with a large red couch, cozy white carpet, a wooden coffee table and other expensive-looking furniture.

Peter, however, barely gave them a second glance, drawn instead towards the large bookshelves against the walls, filled with all sorts of books and movies. He walked towards them, and couldn't decide what the be most excited about. Advanced science textbooks, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and an up-to-date Star Wars collection laid in front of his eyes. For probably the twentieth time that night, he wished Ned were there with him.

He heard a _pop_ from behind him, and turned to see Mr. Stark pouring a bowl of chips for him, and his stomach once again grumbled. Peter didn't think he'd ever been so hungry in his life.

He raced towards them, manners thrown out the window as he reached for the bowl. As he took a few bites, he was surprised the find that he didn't recognize the flavour, but _oh my god_, were they the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Mr. Stark chuckled as he scarfed down the chips, before grabbing a tray of fruit and vegetables and placing them in front of him as well.

"God, I'm going to sound like my mother, but- You can't live off those. Pizzas in the oven, but try to limit yourself to only one bag of chips, alright?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stark, thank you." Peter said. He didn't notice Mr. Stark's grimace when he called him 'Sir'. "Hey, what flavour are these?" He asked, mouth still full.

"All dressed." Mr. Stark grabbed a chip and popped it into his mouth. "A Canadian delicacy. I was up there for a conference last week and bought about ten bags. They're the best part of visiting the country, if I'm honest."

"They're really good." Peter stated, licking the dust off one of his fingers.

Mr. Stark snorted. "I figured, considering how _fast_ you're eating them."

Usually Peter would be embarrassed by that comment, but he was too hungry to care. He did, however, decide to switch over to the fruit tray. He picked up a piece of cantaloupe and popped it in his mouth, and found himself enjoying the fruit just as much as the chips. Peter had heard before that the hungrier you are, the better things taste. He'd never agreed with that statement more.

Ten minutes and half a fruit tray later, a beeping noise came from the oven, and Mr. Stark pulled out a steaming pepperoni and mushroom pizza. Peter could not believe he'd eaten so much, and yet he _still _felt hungry. He supposed Mr. Stark was eating too, though not nearly much as Peter. Yet, Peter was the one who grabbed a slice of pizza, while Mr. Stark began to brew himself a cup of coffee.

Was it morning already? Peter turned towards the window, but the sun wasn't up yet. He couldn't find a clock, but '_3:54 A.M' _was flashing on the microwave.

"Mr. Stark?" He asked, a little caution in his voice.

"Hm?" Mr. Stark took a sip, and Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, the coffee- I've got some work down in the lab tonight. Gotta keep awake somehow." His smile, ever so subtly, twitched. When Peter saw that, he knew that Mr. Stark was lying. He didn't know how, but he didn't just suspect it- He was _certain_ of it.

A ringing sounded in his ears, subtle at first, but growing steadily louder. It soon became so loud and sharp that Peter dropped his half eaten slice of pizza, the ringing all he could focus on. As Mr. Stark rushed over, the buzz slowly turned into voices.

"_You _always_ have some sort of work to do in the lab. I know that means something's bugging you, Tony."_

"_Gee, kid, can't let an old man get away with anything, can you?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Alright. I'll keep that in mind next time Friday tells me you went out as Spider-Man past curfew."_

"_That's different-"_

_A chuckle. "It's adrenaline keeping you up at ungodly hours, isn't it?"_

Peter clutched his head. The words- voices- memory?- had faded from mind as quickly as they'd come, leaving behind only a dull ache. The ringing was gone, and it was as if the sharper pain had never been there at all.

"Peter? Peter, can you hear me?"

"Y-Yeah." he said, blinking his eyes back into focus. He was surprised to find Mr. Stark right in front of him, hands steadily on Peter's shoulders. "I… think."

Mr. Stark took a step back, sitting down on the chair beside him. "Are you okay? It looked like you… What happened?"

"I… Well, my ears started to ring, and then it got worse- My-My head started to hurt, b-but then I heard voices? No, it was more like I… _remembered _hearing them, I knew that no one was actually talking. I- I don't remember what they said… Something about adrenaline, and- and a spider-man?" Peter shook his head. "I probably sound crazy right now…"

He looked towards Mr. Stark for confirmation, but instead found him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

"Not crazy." It was nearly a whisper. "I've uh- I've got to talk to Helene- why don't-" Mr. Stark met Peter's eyes but quickly averted them. "You- You must be exhausted. Let's go to your room."

It was true, Peter _was _exhausted. Now that he'd eaten, he was all the more aware of how tired he was. But he didn't miss that Mr. Stark had said _'your room' _again, and he didn't want to sleep, he wanted to know what was going on. There had been too much left unsaid in the past twenty-four hours.

"Mr. Stark, what is it? Do you know what's happening to me?" He asked. He knew he shouldn't pry, but he couldn't help it. He didn't know why- Why Ben and May were dead. He had _no idea _what was happening to him, all he knew was that he had memory loss, but he didn't even know _how bad_.

The facade of anything close to normal that Peter had managed to create shattered like glass, and his breaths became irregular. Had he somehow caused this? How much had he lost? Why weren't Uncle Ben and Aunt May here anymore? He needed to _know_. But Mr. Stark stayed silent.

"Mr. Stark." He said, more firmly this time. "I- I can't- I don't know- _anything-_ My-My-" Faster. His breaths came faster, and faster, and faster, until he didn't even notice them anymore. His eyes stung, but not from tears. From the dryness of having already cried so much.

"Peter, breathe. I need you to breathe."

At first, that felt like an impossible task. Peter wasn't breathing. He was moving so fast he felt like he wasn't moving at all. Everything felt unsteady, unfamiliar. But Mr. Stark's voice stayed the same.

"Your name is Peter Parker. You grew up in Queens. Ned Leeds is your best friend. You go to school at Midtown Tech..."

Peter used the facts like a grappling hook. His name was Peter Parker. He grew up in Queens.

"Say it. My name is Peter Parker."

It came out cracked, and his voice sounded foreign to him, but he managed to do as he was told.

"My name is Peter Parker."

"Good. I grew up in Queens."

"I grew up in Queens…"

It took a while, but after a few more repetitions, Peter felt like he was able to breathe again.

"You okay?" Mr. Stark asked again.

Peter nodded. He really wasn't. He had no idea what had just happened, but he was suddenly overcome with the need to _get out._ He needed to be alone, and saying he was okay was the fastest way to do so.

"Alright. Peter, I-" Peter wasn't sure if it was how shaky he felt, but he thought he heard Mr. Stark's voice tremble.

"I promise I'll tell you more in the morning. But for now, you need to sleep, alright? I'll answer your questions tomorrow."

Peter didn't know if Mr. Stark was lying, but he had to believe he wasn't. He desperately needed answers.

"O-Okay."

"Okay."

Mr. Stark grabbed him a glass of water and guided Peter to his room, but the entire time he felt like a ghost of himself. He was reminded of how _different _everything was from the way it should be.

How far of a walk it was from the kitchen to the bedroom, proving once more just how big the Avengers compound was.

How cold and fresh the water tasted- Well Water, probably, as opposed to the usual tap water he'd have at home.

The adult guiding him; A superhero, his idol, but not his Aunt or Uncle.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was them. But as soon as he opened them, his heart ached once more as he realized they weren't there.

Peter didn't even take in how large the room he walked into was. He didn't notice the computer sitting on the ledge, or the posters on the walls, the tv in the corner.

He just crawled into bed, closed his eyes, and let the images of May and Ben come to life.

In the morning, he'd once again have to face the truth that they weren't there anymore, that all these changes were real, and permanent.

But for tonight, he let himself believe that his day had been the dream, that the walls of his apartment in Queens were real, and that everything was back to normal.

It wasn't until morning that he realized he'd never told Mr. Stark where he went to school.


	5. Chapter four

**Hi everybody!**

**Sorry for the delay on this one... Hope that you enjoy :)**

* * *

Late nights in the lab weren't unusual for Tony. What was unusual was his lack of ideas for a new project.

Currently, he was repairing the shoulder-pad of an old suit. It had gotten damaged during a test flight, when he'd miscalculated a turn and rammed his left arm into a tree near the compound's outdoor track. His arm had hurt like hell for the next two weeks, and the prototype had had other flaws, so he'd simply moved on to another project, shelving this one.

It had been nearly three months since he'd last touched it, but it gave his hands something to do while his mind wandered, coming back to the same question…

What the _hell_ had happened to Peter?

He'd tried everything. With Helene's help, they'd done tests, research, blood-work, you name it and it had been done. And yet, they'd found nothing that made sense.

First, Tony had checked Peter's suit-cam, which had (unsurprisingly) been wiped. This did give Tony two clues- This had been a planned attack, and whoever had done this knew their tech. The suit wasn't easy to hack into, and they'd need to connect it to some external source in order to wipe the memory.

But none of this information helped him to get Peter's memory back.

So, Tony researched diseases related to radioactivity, wondering if maybe something had been triggered late as a result of the spider-bite. No symptoms matched.

Him and Helene had briefly considered the possibility of blunt-force trauma, but there were no signs of Peter having been hit anywhere near as hard as he would've needed to have been to create such an effect, especially considering his enhancements.

The only lead had resulted from a blood sample tested for unknown substances. They'd found a combination of many common drugs, most that could be found in over-the-counter medication. They shouldn't even affect non-enhanced individuals.

But as their only lead, Tony latched onto it, and put all his effort into researching the types of chemicals they'd found in Peter's system.

Most had been anticholinergics, which theoretically could've affected his memory, but they shouldn't affect anything unless they were used regularly and in large doses. Even then, it was usually a more steady decline in memory, rather than an immediate affect.

When Peter began to have the convulsions, things had gone from bad to worse. His previous research was forgotten as Tony tried to account for the new variable. Chances were that they had the same source… But what?

Helene had told Tony to leave the medical to her, insisting he put his energy into being there for Peter. Tony held no role in the life Peter remembered, but he has an important place in the life he had now.

Tony knew that, of course. Before the accident, he'd been prepping to sign full-time guardianship papers.

But he couldn't just be a sitting duck. He'd been a straight A student at MIT without even trying. Surely if anybody could figure this out, it was him.

He'd failed Peter before. He wouldn't do it again.

Not being able to find May still haunted him. He'd searched day and night, missed meeting after meeting. But he wasn't the only one…

No matter how many times he told the kid he had it handled, Peter wouldn't listen. Skipping class and decathlon meetings, he was always stubbornly by his side, inspecting leads and reading articles, always insisting on hearing all possibilities, even the outlandish ones Tony disregarded.

Peter went strong for months. But slowly, he stopped pushing to see everything. He didn't ask to come searching with Tony as much. Eventually, he stopped asking at all.

There was one particular night, nearly two weeks ago now, when Tony came to check on the kid after a late-night patrol. That was the night when Tony realized Peter had given up before he had.

He'd been sitting on his bed, still in his suit. His eyes were stained with tears, and he held a photo that Tony couldn't see. Tony had asked what was wrong. He could still hear how small Peter's voice was when he said; "Nothing. She's with Ben now".

That had been it. They'd started to plan the funeral the next day.

When Peter had first come to live with Tony, it had been understood that the situation was temporary. Neither Tony nor Peter saw failure as an option. Tony and the other Avengers had already been working on the missing person's cases and were determined to take down whatever force was causing them. The only difference was how involved Peter had become in that task. The kid had taken the first week off of school, channeling all of his energy into his missions, but with a significantly smaller team and half the freedom they used to have, the Avengers weren't nearly as successful as they used to be. As lead after lead turned to dead-end and other crisis' came to light, months later Tony and Peter were the only ones prioritizing the missing citizens. The cases had become less and less frequent, giving even less clues to work with and less public concern.

Throughout these cases, about sixty percent of the victims were found dead weeks later. None had come back. Tony didn't know what had happened that made Peter accept that his Aunt must be gone, but he didn't push.

Peter had needed time to process, to grieve, before figuring out the rest of his life. They'd told each other they'd talk about 'What happens now' after the funeral; Which was supposed to be today.

Tony had postponed. Peter had been May's last surviving relative, so her funeral guest list was short enough that there wasn't a fuss. Tony needed time to figure out how to explain to Peter why Ben's tombstone read 1964-2015 when Peter thought his Uncle had died- This month? Maybe even this week. Much earlier than he actually had, anyway.

Tony sighed. No parenting book had prepared him for anything like _this_.

He made the finishing touches to the shoulder pad and placed it back on the suit. Hopefully he wouldn't even need to use this one again- He'd recently had the idea to make one using nano-tech, so that if a portion got destroyed during battle, he could replace it right then and there. But that was still in the works.

Tony grabbed a cloth and wiped it over his hands. He was thinking up ideas of what else he could work on when he heard a familiar voice.

"I thought you said you were done in the lab for the day."

Although he hadn't wanted to wake Pepper, Tony was relieved see her. She was a sight for sore eyes- Still in her pyjamas, arms crossed over her chest and a slight smirk on her face.

"I said that at around 11:30. I'm pretty sure it's past midnight. New day, new rules, right?" He grabbed his mug from beside the sink and walked over to Pepper, pecking her on the cheek.

"Please tell me that's not coffee."

"So what if it is? Coffee is good for the immune system, you know."

"Not when it's keeping you awake. It's nearly five in the morning, Tony. Come to bed."

Although Tony knew without the coffee he would no doubt by asleep with his head on a desk, he shook his head.

"This is about more than just a project." Pepper said. "What's wrong? Is it Peter?"

Of course it was Peter. Pepper was only asking to start the conversation. Tony sighed. "Yeah… Kid broke a monitor and needed my help, and suddenly was ready to talk to me again."

"That sounds good, Tony!"

"Yeah. He seemed off, though. Can't say as I blame him. Mentioned Spider-Man at the end of the night."

"Really?"

"He blanked out for a second. Wouldn't respond to any gestures, sounds, nothing. I thought he was gonna have another convulsion, or worse…" Tony paused, fiddling with his wedding band. "When he came around, he said he'd heard voices… And one of them had said the word 'Spider-man'."

"Voices?" Pepper's eyebrows shot up. She didn't seem to know what to make of this- She never did, when it came to super hero stuff. She was great at business, but unknown drug affects on an enhanced sixteen-year old were a little above her pay grade. "What do you think that means…?"

"I don't know." The reply came out sharper than Tony had meant it to. This was above his pay-grade too, but he didn't want to admit it. "I have to talk to Helene."

Pepper nodded, unperturbed by Tony's slightly erratic behaviour. They both knew she'd seen worse.

Tony drummed his fingers rapid-fire on the table. The suit part was fixed. Besides, distraction only worked for so long. There was only one thing on his mind, a promise that Tony wished he could take back.

"He asked me for answers." He put his head in his hands. "I told him I'd give them to him in the morning, Pepper, and I- I don't know what to do."

Pepper made her way towards him, the usual clack of her heels replaced by the soft steps of slippers. She placed her arms on his shoulders and rubbed them soothingly.

"Let him ask questions. Talk to him about his Aunt and Uncle."

"But if I tell him, he'll be devastated-"

"He's _already_ devastated." She placed a hand over his to steady it. "This way… at least he'll know. Then he'll be able to make peace with it."

Tony sighed. An image of Steve entered his mind- How he'd hidden the truth of his parent's deaths- he clenched his jaw. Pepper was right, she always was.

That didn't make the idea of telling Peter any easier.

"What about his Uncle?" His tone softened. "How do I tell him that it's been two years since he died?"

Pepper paused, running her thumb in small circles over Tony's hand.

"I don't know, Tony." She finally said "But you can't prepare for every possible question he might ask. He might not remember you, but you _know_ him. I'm sure you'll figure out the right thing to say."

"But," Pepper dragged her other hand down from Tony's shoulder to his hand, gently pulling him to face her. "You can't do any of that without some sleep."

"Too late." Tony said, holding his empty coffee mug upside down. "This'll keep me up for at least another hour. By then, it'll be nearly seven. No point in sleeping the day away."

Pepper sighed. She knew a lost cause when she saw one.

Tony was done tinkering. But he could still put this time to use.

He cracked his knuckles, instructing Friday to put on another pot of coffee. He had some work to do.

* * *

Tony stayed holed up in his office for three hours before finally giving up on research for the morning.

He'd been growing impatient. It wasn't like he'd _expected_ to find anything new, he'd scoured the internet time and time again the past few days, but his frustration had reached a boiling point. It was all the same information. The same dead ends.

Tony was certain now that whatever had happened to Peter was related to the spider-bite. Maybe it had caused an abnormal, drastic reaction to a more common drug that was associated with memory loss? The details didn't matter. The spider-bite was the only biological variable Tony couldn't learn more about. There _had _to be some sort of correlation.

He wished he'd asked Peter more about the incident when he'd had the chance, but the kid had always clammed up about it. He'd only given the bare minimum of information… 'It happened on a field trip, now I have these powers and I'm Spider-man', etc, etc. Before Peter had started living with him, Tony hadn't felt it was his place to push him to talk about that particular trauma. And once Peter did start living with him, there had been… other things to worry about.

Tony checked the time- 8 am- and headed to the kitchen. He didn't want to smother Peter by going to his room, but he could at least make them something to eat. One thing Tony had learned since Peter had lived with him was that the kid was _constantly _hungry, but especially so when he'd be injured or hurt in some way. He hoped Peter wouldn't wake up so early, but it didn't hurt to be prepared.

He grabbed familiar ingredients from the cupboard; Pancake mix, chocolate chips, and blueberry syrup. It was Peter's favourite breakfast. Tony had offered before to try making the pancakes from scratch (although he hadn't guaranteed the results) but Peter always insisted on using the mix. It always cheered him up. Peter said that May had called it his 'feel-better-breakfast', and had been making it since he was a kid, whenever he was having a rough time.

Tony had been making it a lot lately.

He sometimes wondered if it was wrong of him to do so. This had been how _May _had helped Peter; May, who had been his guardian since he was five. She'd probably thought of the idea, and it had stuck. Tony had just stolen it from her. He didn't know how to cheer Peter up on his own. At least, not anymore…

About fifteen minutes later, Friday informed Tony that Peter was awake. That wasn't nearly enough sleep, but Tony wasn't exactly in a position to judge.

He had expected the kid to be starved, and had assumed Peter would come down to the kitchen as soon as he'd woken up, like he usually did every morning.

As he continued making breakfast, Tony watched the clock. After twenty minutes, he figured the kid must be taking a shower. After thirty, he'd finished breakfast. After forty, he started to get worried.

"Friday, what's Peter up to right now?"

"He appears to be lying in bed, boss."

Tony frowned.

"You sure he's awake?"

"Positive, boss."

When Peter had come to live with him the first time, he'd sometimes been hesitant about things like food. He'd insisted on not being a 'burden', and every time he _did _accept something, he promised he'd be gone as soon as they found Aunt May.

Peter didn't realize that making him meals had been one of the few things that had gotten Tony to eat regularly. It was the opposite of a burden; It actually helped them both.

"Let him know breakfast is ready." He grabbed a piece of bacon. "And remind him pancakes aren't very good cold."

"Yes, boss."

Tony only had to wait a few minutes after that until Peter came into the room. He looked like a _mess- _Not that he didn't most mornings, but this was more than ruffled hair and a rumpled t-shirt. Tony couldn't believe the kid was standing upright.

It wasn't just his appearance- Sure, his eyes were tear-stained and puffy, but it was the way he carried himself that worried Tony most. He was dragging his feet, shoulders slumped, yet his fingers were continually closing in and out of a fist. Like he was having some sort of internal battle that he didn't want anyone to know about.

Normally, Tony would've made some sort of light-hearted comment, but bit his tongue, not wanting to risk setting the kid off. Today he had promised answers. He didn't want to make things worse before they'd even begun.

"Morning, Peter."

Peter sat down, but didn't respond.

"Did you sleep okay?"

Peter nodded, not even looking at him.

Tony placed a plate in front of Peter. It had about six pancakes stacked on top of one other, with a healthy helping of bacon on the side. It was definitely overkill, but Tony didn't think that the kid would be confident enough to ask for more than one helping, and with his advanced metabolism he needed all the calories he could get.

"What's this?" Peter asked.

"Breakfast." Tony said "It's not exactly five-star cuisine, but a man can try."

"No- I mean-" Peter stopped abruptly, eyes fixed on the syrup in front of him.

Shit. Tony realized Peter didn't remember meeting him, meaning he's have no idea he'd met May. This 'feel-better' breakfast could cause more questions, and leading to the exact opposite of the intended affect. Tony blamed his lack of oversight on the lack of sleep.

Tony waited for Peter to continue, to ask where he'd got the blueberry syrup, if he'd known May, what-are-you-not-telling-me, the whole sha-bang, but instead the kid just shrugged, grabbed a fork and started to fiddle with his food, not even bothering to put any syrup on his pancakes.

Tony eyed him hesitantly. He wasn't sure whether or not to address it. After a moment more of silence, Tony couldn't help himself.

"Not a syrup kind of guy?"

"Not really"

Tony knew that Peter was lying, but he couldn't call him out on it, so instead the two ate in near-silence. Tony did his best to fill it, but only succeeding in a few awkward moments of small talk here and there.

Tony's heart ached every time the kid looked at him- They were back to square one. Actually, they were probably closer to square negative ten. Peter wasn't babbling to fill the silence like he had when the two of them had first met, nor was he asking Tony to tell stories like he had when he'd first started to live with him. Something Tony had learned about Peter very early on was that he liked noise- Unless he was focused on some sort of task, Peter liked being around other people and hearing them talk, or playing music, or having the radio on in the background when Tony was busy working on something. Even when May had first disappeared, and Peter hadn't been up to talking himself, he'd ask Tony questions, often about Iron Man, just to fill the silence after another mission that only led to a dead-end.

Yet today, Peter was completely silent. He wasn't talking, or asking questions, the kid was barely even eating.

Tony drummed his fingers on the table. He was about to spew some other small-talk, when Peter abruptly said;

"It's morning."

It was a simple statement, but they both knew what Peter meant. Tony once again asked himself _why _he'd said he'd tell Peter in the morning.

Peter was tense, his jaw locked, but his eyes betrayed his fear. Whether the fear was of Tony backing out, or of what he might hear, Tony wasn't sure.

"Yeah, kid, it is…" Time to rip the band-aid off. "Lay it on me. I know you must have a million questions, but where do you wanna start?"

"Why me?" The words came out fast, as if Peter was scared if he didn't ask now, he never would. "Why am I here, and not in a general hospital somewhere? I- I know it's some sort of publicity stunt, but I still don't understand _why_."

Peter had already mentioned thinking this was a publicity stunt, and it broke Tony's heart, but he didn't know how to convince him otherwise. '_Actually, it's because you're a superhero and I needed your help because your childhood heroes, the Avengers, broke up, so I flew you half way across the world to fight against Captain America, only for us to lose anyways, and then a year and a half later your aunt disappears and I offer to help, and you end up living here and I was considering legally adopting you. Did I mention I was going to tell you three days before you collapsed in my kitchen, and woke up with no memory of any of that?_'

Instead, Tony stuck to a simpler version of the story. "It wasn't a stunt… You were- ah- my intern."

Not necessarily a lie. He had come over an awful lot to work on stuff for his 'internship'- Tony had even signed documents and everything to confirm it. They just happened to talk a lot more about web-fluid and wall climbing than any other intern Stark industries had ever had.

"Oh." Peter said simply. "I didn't know Stark industries had an Internship program…"

"It's low-press. Not everyone can apply. It's by recommendation only."

"Who recommended me?"

Shit. "Ah- Your principle."

Peter nodded. He seemed shocked, but he believed the story okay. But Tony knew this explanation had done more than stretch the truth. Time to move on.

"Alright, that's two of your questions. Only eighteen more before you have to guess who I am."

"What?"

"Twenty questions?"

Peter stared at Tony blankly. "O-oh."

"The game, I meant. Stupid joke. You can ask as many questions as you want, kid."

"Uh… Okay."

They stared at each other, Tony waiting on Peter to ask another question, and Peter waiting for Tony to elaborate. In the end, Peter broke the silence.

"How long was I your intern for?"

This tied into another question. _How much memory did I lose?_

Tony wanted so badly to lie. To say only a few weeks, days, it hadn't even started yet, but he knew he couldn't. It was gonna come out eventually. Peter had a right to know. It was better he hear it from Tony.

"A little over a year and a half, now."

Peter's eyes widened.

"Shit."

"Peter-"

"_Shit- _No, no… Over a _year?" _He laughed nervously. "There has to be some sort of mistake- Ned said _months_ n-not-"

"Peter, think about it. What year is it?"

"I-It's 2018, right?"

Tony nodded. Helene had been right; She'd suspected that only Peter's emotional memories had been affected, but facts, such as dates, were still intact.

"And how old are you?

"Seventeen- Mr. Stark-"

"Do you remember your seventeenth birthday?"

Peter's brows furrowed, and his eyes widened in horror, and Tony could see just how hard he was trying to remember.

He suddenly grabbed his head, hissing as though he was hurt. Tony grabbed his phone, dialled Helene's number, and was about to call her when he just barely heard Peter…

"Oh my god-"

Tony realized that this wasn't the start of another convulsion, but rather a result of shock. He wanted more than anything to comfort Peter, to make this just a little bit better, but any words he had died in his throat.

"So I've- We've- A year and a half?"

Tony nodded.

"And there's some time before that… That you don't remember. We don't know exactly how much. If your friend… Ned… is right, it's at least six months. So… Around two years in all."

In reality, while Ned had confirmed what Tony already suspected, he knew it was at least six months because that was when Spider-Man had first appeared.

If the field trip Peter remembered looking forward to was the one where he'd been bit, then his memory failed right before the bite. That couldn't be a coincidence.

"Two years."

"Yeah…" Tony's hand reached for where his arc reactor used to be. He quickly caught himself and brought his hands down on his knees.

"I can- um- catch you up, if you want. On what I know, at least."

Peter bit his lip. Tony found himself thinking about Steve… He wished he were here. He'd lost seventy years of memory, surely he would be able to help Peter cope with lost time much better than Tony could.

But he _wasn't_.

"Or… Ned could. He's planning on stopping by again, later today. If that would make you feel more comfortable."

Peter nodded. He knew Ned. Ned would be able to help… If Tony had thought more about it last night, he wouldn't have offered up answers until Ned was there to help Peter through it.

"I- I have one more question."

Tony tried his best to hide his surprise. It was probably a good thing, that he didn't have to tell Peter everything all at once.

The last two years hadn't treated him well.

"How did they- How'd they… May and Ben. What happened to them?"

Tony flinched. He should've known this was coming, but it was the part of the story he was least qualified to tell.

"I… Wasn't in your life when your uncle passed. So… I don't know."

He let Peter digest this. He knew what Peter was thinking.

Ben had been gone for nearly two years.

Whatever he was feeling, Peter was trying his damnedest to keep it inside. But that didn't stop his voice from cracking when he asked…

"And May?"

"There have been some missing person cases… People kidnapped, going out for groceries and not being found. Half of the time, their bodies were found. Half the time they weren't. But nobody has been found alive…"

"Was she found?"

Images of Peter swinging through the streets, searching and searching for his Aunt, all while beating himself up inside for not being there when it happened, pushing himself to the very limits of exhaustion, skipping school, ripping up newspapers in frustration, crying into Tony's shoulder circled Tony's mind. Before he could think about what it would mean, before he could realize the extent of the lie he was telling, the word was out of his mouth.

"Yes."


End file.
